Unconquered
by magusta68
Summary: This story is AU. It starts with an alienated teams journey on a trail that leads from past failures and inner conflicts to eventual harmony and understanding.
1. Chapter 1

The title, inspiration for the story and all the chapter titles are taken from the poem by William Ernest Henley. (see end notes)

This story is **AU** 100% **AU**. The timeline is mostly **AU**. Some of the canon characters deceased in the show are still alive in this story.

A story that starts with an alienated team's journey on a convoluted trail of past failures and present inner conflicts. A trail that leads from isolation and estrangement to eventual resolution, and a conclusion at that fork in the road, and the choices each one makes once they get there.

UNCONQUERED

PROLOGUE

THIS PLACE OF WRATH AND TEARS

Outside the grand jury courtroom seated in one of the hard chairs waiting to be called to testify at the preliminary hearing, Detective Anthony DiNozzo, Jr was determined to keep his promise, therefore he had to lose the butterflies, the sensation of being strangled by his tie, and the nervous jitters. _This was important. _ Suited up with an appropriate accoutrement of complimentary staid tie, light blue dress shirt, and highly buffed shoes, his outside appearance was faultless and he _knew_ he radiated calmness and composure. On the outside. Inside his stomach did nausea-inspiring somersaults.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

In the courtroom, thirteen-year-old Jason Klein was on the stand. He exhibited no other emotion but fear. He was dressed in his school uniform and his brown hair was neatly combed. He kept his eyes on the stand in front of him and sat perfectly still. He was tall, skinny and gawky, had pimples and wore glasses, and his left arm was encased in a white cast, which no one had taken the trouble to autograph.

Attorney Dyles, attorney for the defendant, Kenneth Klein, had his strategy well planned out, _it was a no brainer. _ Kenneth Klein was one of Dyles law firms biggest clients, very lucrative money tree, a guarantee of continued overflowing coffers to an already filled to the brim strongbox.

Dyles firm earned millions as the attorney's for Klein, Inc., and Kenneth's son Jason wanted to ruin things for everyone. _Not in his lifetime. _Dyles only concern was for himself and maintaining his means of living though he had nothing against the boy and didn't know if his father had abused the him or not. It wasn't any of his business and besides that, it wasn't important, the kid would just have to buck up and accept that life wasn't fair.

His firm's loyalty was to Kenneth Klein, therefore the man was not going to jail and his reputation would remain intact. The kid would be returned to his 'loving' father in the perfect family setting once enough money had exchanged hands to guarantee success of the prescribed agenda, or even better and preferable, good people would look the other way as money greased their palms in order to perpetuate the lie. And Dyles conscious would remain clear.

"Do you know what it means to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, Jason, being that your answers seem to vacillate back and forth widely during questioning?"

"Objection! Your honor, there was no question there. And would you instruct counsel to use terminology appropriate for a young boy!"

"Mr Dyles, you know better! Objection sustained!"

Dyles expected the objection but he had gotten the question out. He had this dull and lifeless teenager tripping over his tongue, stuttering and stammering, making mistakes and rethinking everything. He'd be recanting his accusations against his father before too much longer no matter how often his court appointed child advocacy lawyer objected. The so-called not bribable judge was the only wild card in this scenario. The anonymous threat the judge should have received earlier regarding his university enrolled daughter and mysteriously failed car brakes should have frightened him enough to bring him around.

"Jason, you told the police officer that you ran away from home because your father beat you and broke your arm, is that true?"

"Yes, sir".

Dyles stood to the right of Jason blocking any encouraging looks he might have received from his defense team. He knew the boy daren't look over to the left where his father sat so he was reduced to staring glassy-eyed at the floor with an occasional clandestine peek at the back doors. If Dyles had to guess, Jason was probably wondering where the police officer was who had helped him. He acted like he trusted the officer. _Ha, the kid had to, there was no one else._

Certainly not his partner Matthew's of Matthew's and Dyles, Attorney's at law, or the other powerful men sitting in the rows of seats behind Kenneth Klein in unified solidarity and support, rich men, pillars of the community, un-defeatable.

"How did your father break your arm?"

"He twisted it, sir."

"Did you know that your doctor...Dr Verante, who is in the courtroom today, will be willing to testify and verify it by your x-rays that your injury could not have been caused by a twisting motion but was more what you would see as a result of landing on it on a hard surface such as falling from your bike?"

"No, sir."

_"Did _you fall off your bike or perhaps fall down the stairs and then blame your father for your injuries because he wouldn't allow you to attend summer camp because of your bad grades?"

Jason bit his lip and hunched in on himself. He shook his head once in denial and stammered, "I...didn't..."

"Answer the question, Jason! Isn't that what happened? Speak up and tell the truth for once before it's too late!" Dyles watched gleefully as the kid cringed even more at his angry harsh tone of voice.

"Objection!" Jason's lawyer stood up and raised his voice in anger. "He's badgering the plaintiff, your honor..."

"I agree. Jason, you may step down. Is the detective here to give testimony?"

"But, your honor. I haven't finished..."

"As far as I'm concerned, you're finished with this witness, Mr Dyles. Take your seat."

The judge addressed Jason's lawyer. "Is Detective DiNozzo here?"

"Yes, sir. He..."

"Bailiff, bring the officer in and swear him in."

"Detective DiNozzo, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth...?"

"I do."

Tony gave an encouraging smile to Jason who sat between his court appointed lawyer and Mrs Daniels, his child advocate. They were all three giving everything they had so that this abused boy would not have to set foot in his father's house again.

Tony testified to what Jason had told him when he found him sitting on a bench on that early morning rainy day in the park. Tony had gone for his usual run and had just decided to cut his exercise short and return home as the light drizzle was turning into a summer storm with darkened skies and pending heavy downpour.

"...so we sat in the cafe and I bought him hot chocolate. He said his father made him sleep in a barrel outside, and when he was in the barrel, sometimes his father would take potshots at him with his rifle. One time he said he tipped over a small cup of milk and his father got angry and ordered the dogs to attack him and he ran to the backyard and climbed into the barrel to get away from them, and he stayed in the barrel all night even though it was raining because he was so afraid. He said his father broke his fingers when he slammed the piano lid on his hand because he was playing a song his mother had taught him...he..."

"Your honor!" Dyles said in a patronizing, bored voice. "This is all hearsay and should not be admiss..."

The boy's lawyer refuted. "As a police officer, your honor, Detective DiNozzo's testimony should be..."

Before Dyles could open his mouth again, the judge barked out.

"Enough! I think I've heard enough. Step down, Detective DiNozzo. Where's this boy's mother?" The judge called out impatiently as he closed the file on his desk.

Dyles answered smoothly, _this was a slam-dunk._ The judge had apparently gotten his warning and was taking it to heart by hurrying up the proceedings and making a quick judgement.

"She's at home waiting for her son and husband to return so they can start to get their lives back in order, your honor, and put this all behind them. My client in the meantime has engaged the best child psychologist to treat Jason Klein for his pathological lies and his attempts to garner attention from his father in inappropriate ways, and has made efforts to locate a better school for..."

_What a sorry excuse for a human being_. The judge eyed the attorney impassively hiding his true feelings of contempt well. "Is that so, Mr Dyles, very commendable. But since this is not about your client but a boy who claims to have been abused, why don't we give Jason Klein the benefit of the doubt." And the judge watched as the attorney's face fell in dismay.

The judge then looked over at the boy and said kindly. "Jason, you'll be remanded over to Mrs Daniels and placed in a foster home or group home pending further investigation. How does that sound?"

And _finally, _the judge was rewarded with a toothy though tentative grin, the first one he'd seen on the boy's too solemn face today. The judge nodded at Jason in a gesture of support then turned to the court clerk. "Place this case on the docket to be continued. Case to be re-examined at a later date. I want hospital records, school records, and someone needs to talk to his mother," and he banged his gavel on the coaster. _ "Next case."_

Needless to say, Kenneth Klein and the group of men, including his lawyers and his character witnesses; a head of a corporation, even a chief of police, were not happy with the judges' edict when they exited the courtroom down the middle aisle. Jason received a friendly slap on the back from Detective Tony and a brief one armed hug from Mrs Daniels, and Jason felt joy for the first time in his young life. Finally, he was free of the monster that was his father.

Then everything went to hell in a hand basket. The perfect FUBAR of unbelievable proportions.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Detective DiNozzo had to go back to work, that is if he still had a job. Earlier, the police chief had paid him a visit and he hadn't been subtle. "Walk with me." The Chief had said, and they had stopped at the coffee kiosk near the police station. "I've known Kenneth since grade school. There is no way he is abusing that boy. It would be in the boy's best interest for you to think about what you intend to say in your testimony at the hearing today. The boy needs help and his father wants to get him the help he needs now that he knows the seriousness of Jason's problems."

"What exactly are you saying, Chief?"

"You're a smart boy, DiNozzo. I don't need to spell it out for you. You're in line for a promotion and you'll continue to rise through the ranks. Just be cautious at what kind of testimony you give at the hearing today."

The Chief had walked away, back to his office. Two of the other detective's, who had close ties with the Chief, had come up on either side of him as he started walking back. Their idle chit-chat consisted of strange things that could happen on a police force if one wasn't careful, for instance, a dangerous absence of backup, missing drug evidence on a case he was handling, the inability to watch his own back when backup never showed up, mysterious muggings in dark alleys behind his apartment with broken bones and hospitals the results. He got the point. His fellow officers had walked away in all friendliness and camaraderie.

His testimony today had not been compromised by blatant threats but it had sealed his fate. More importantly, though, it had guaranteed the fate of a young boy and freedom from a tyrannical father. So DiNozzo had finished his testimony and gone back to the department expecting the worst and wasn't disappointed when he found his demotion papers on his desk. He was back to walking a beat in uniform after he served his stint in the basement, first with cold cases and then property clerking. He accepted the dirty looks from some of his fellow officer's, not all, but those who were in the Chief's pocket, and the understated menace as he cleaned out his desk and headed for the nether regions where he found a desk in the gloom and a truckload of cold case boxes to start sorting through.

Mrs Daniels had another preliminary emergency court case to attend immediately after Jason Klein's hearing; two siblings needing protection from their alcoholic mother. So she entrusted Jason to his court appointed lawyer to transport him to her office at the County Children's Advocacy Center in the same complex as the police station, where Jason would wait in the children's waiting area until she returned in about an hour. Then she would take him to lunch before transporting him to a middle-aged couple who were willing to take in an older boy to foster.

"You hungry, Jason?" His lawyer asked. "Let's get a snack. Don't tell my wife but I'm up for a hotdog at the hot dog cart with all the trimmings."

"Yeah, me too." Jason was finally relaxed enough to eat something. After eating their hotdogs and soda's and chips on a bench, they started to walk towards the lawyer's car when the lawyer was stopped by the D.A. who had just left the building, for a quick discussion regarding a plea bargain for a client. It was starting to look a little cloudy so rather than make Jason wait, his lawyer handed him over to Officer Crandall who was just returning from his lunch. The policeman worked as court security and sometimes taxi driver to the kids.

Jason wanted to know what he had to do to be a police officer and that's what he and Officer Crandall talked about during the drive back. Officer Crandall arrived at the police station and parked his vehicle at the police station parking lot with the intent of walking Jason to Mrs Daniels office in building W. The Chief of Police returned just then and saw them walking and thought what a fortuitous happenstance. Time to teach this young upstart a lesson in the benefits of veracity and loyalty to his betters. It was not too late for him to recant his lies about his father.

The Chief got out of his car and sent his driver on. Here was a chance to do a favor for his best friend Kenneth. This lying boy needed a good talking to, put the fear of God into him for the benefit of his dad.

"Officer Crandall, isn't it? They got you taxi driving again?"

"Yep. Don't mind though, sir. Jason here's a good kid. Wants to be a police officer someday. Would be a definite credit to the force."

Craftily, the Chief implemented his plan. "I'm on my way over to building W now. Why don't you head back to the courthouse and I'll deliver, Jason, is it? I'll take him to Mrs Daniels office."

"Sounds good to me, sir. I'll catch you around, Jason." And the officer waved and left.

"I have a stop to make first at my office, Jason." And the boy shuffled along meekly now all bounce gone from his step as he followed the police chief, his fathers good friend. Head down and dejected, his budding feelings of confidence and well-being had come and gone so quickly.

In the Chief's office, the Chief removed his gun and holster and hung them on the coat tree by the door and placed his jacket on top of them. He then sat behind his desk and had Jason stand in front of it where he proceeded to give the boy his version of a tough love dressing down.

Two big burly police officers with their guns prominently displayed on their hips came in for a spontaneous friendly visit and filled up the room with their presence, and emptied the room of air and oxygen 'til Jason couldn't breathe. They talked to each other about their kids and what would happen to them if **they **were caught lying. Scared-straight tactics for a scared boy who wasn't bent.

Eventually, and inevitably, Kenneth Klein and his lawyer Dyles joined the party. Jason had been relegated to a hard chair in the corner. Kenneth Klein didn't even glance at Jason as the men sat around the Chief's desk and talked about their golfing plans, the police ball, and ungrateful children deserving of punishment. Coffee was passed around in a relaxing afternoon break.

Jason had many thoughts running through his head. Like asking to use the bathroom but he didn't dare. He was thirsty and thought about the nice Mrs Daniels who had promised him lunch and who was probably looking for him by now. He sat quietly for an hour staring at his clasped hands and thinking over and over the same thought. _No one was stronger than his father, no one ever beat him. _ Maybe Detective Tony might have done so if he had been here, but he wasn't here now.

Jason got up from the chair unnoticed, determined and strong, he would not wince or cry aloud again. He walked to the door and wiped his sweaty hand on his pants. He reached the coat tree and reached under the Chief's jacket and pulled the Chief's gun from its holster. It was easy to learn about guns on the Internet so he knew to release the safety lock first and then cock the hammer.

All the men in the room who had studiously ignored him before, the Chief, the veteran cops, his father's lawyer and his father knew what that sound was. Too late, he finally had their concerned, undivided attention when they turned as one at the familiar sound and stared at him in horror as he put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Down in the basement, Tony finished storing his possessions in the decrepit ancient wooden desk assigned to him with the scarred surface stained from coffee cup rings and burning cigarette butts. He felt a kinship with the old desk, worn out and abandoned but still with some life remaining and some usefulness retained within its sturdy timber feet still holding itself up.

_Yeah, it's just you and me, desk. You're the desk and I'm a piece of kindling for fire or maybe an old timers baseball bat for the grandkids, still got some use in us, don't we, buddy? _Tony mocked himself because none of it mattered. Jason was safe, everything else was dross. His whimsical thought's were interrupted by a flurry of activity by the door.

"Hey, DiNozzo? Geez, man! You hear what just happened? Some poor kid offed himself in the Chief's office, with the Chief's own gun, man. Some kid named Jason Kl...Hey, DiNozzo, where you going?"

Running and gasping. Puffing and heart hammering as he raced out of the basement and up four flights of stairs and out the metal door. To a crowd of uniforms standing around with 'what just happened' shocked looks on their faces, and some tears. The Chief's windows next to the door had blood and brain matter on them when Tony thought about it later. He pushed and shoved his way through the standing bodies and stumbled into the room to a dead boy lying on the floor covered with a yellow sheet and no loving arms holding him close. The boy was so carelessly covered with the yellowness that his skinny arm protruded from under the sheet and the Chief's big gun was still clutched loosely in his hand. Kenneth Klein was there in the room so in spite of Tony's racing heart and heavenly pleas, the body lying beneath the tarp had to be that of Jason Klein.

"No no no noooooooooo!"

NCIS NCIS NCIS

NCIS Navy Yard

"Director Shepard, Jen, yes Captain Jones here. You still have that opening for a field investigator for your Lead field agent's team? Got a kid named Anthony DiNozzo not doing too well and who needs to get out of 's been quite a shake-up. What a mess. Long story short, the Chief of Police was fired and may be facing criminal charges along with two police officers who are on unpaid suspension pending the results of IA's investigation into their involvement in the intimidation, terrorizing and bullying tactics perpetrated against a minor causing the minor's death by suicide.

"Yeah, the Chief left his weapon unattended and allowed a thirteen-year-old kid that DiNozzo was mentoring to be so traumatized by himself, his father, his father's lawyer, and two uniformed cops with guns that the kid got ahold of the Chief's gun and shot himself in the mouth right there in the Chief's office.

"When DiNozzo found out the kid was dead, he near took the Chief's head off with his bare hands. Problem is, the Chief had some friends here and resentment and blame against DiNozzo by a few boneheaded cops does not make for a safe environment, at least internally within the ranks. Can you fit him in, you owe me, Jenny? Yeah, call us even."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

A/N. The Poem

INVICTUS

by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848

Warning: Characters of NCIS are not portrayed in the best of light in this chapter. **You have been warned!**

CHAPTER ONE

OUT OF THE NIGHT THAT COVERS ME

NCIS - Three months later

Tony DiNozzo kept his eyes plastered to the computer screen and worked diligently, apparently calm, meanwhile his thoughts were in turmoil and his taut body showed the stress of his frayed nerves. Dear God, if he had known what he was getting into he would have never allowed himself to be maneuvered into this job. _Should have stayed where I was bearding the lion's den in Baltimore. _At least there things were clear, not this muted shade of gray vagueness; where he knew his place and could speak his mind and only had his mild tempered Captain to answer to and some disgruntled brought down a few pegs, reprimanded and resentful cops to watch his back from.

Instead, he's surrounded by three vicious alley-cat women named Shepard, David and Sciuto, a cowardly servile left-handed McServal, and the big lion king himself, the aloof and icy-glared dictator Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The only saving grace in this whole mess was the lovable tabby cat Ducky and his socially unfit but likable stray, Palmer. Now he'd have to call himself the scruffy alley cat and...

_Geez, would you listen to me. I'm reduced to metaphors just to keep from loosing my mind here! Anything, even no job would have been better than this!_ Three more months. All he needed until the six months were up and he could become employed by the elite and secret Covert Ops division of the FBI. Six months of experience in actual field investigation, that's all he needed to get through, then, according to Fornell, he'd be signed on to the rigors of covert ops training and his first mission in...

"DiNozzo! Where's that report?" Gibbs' bellow actually startled him. He hadn't heard the man's reentry into the bullpen because the ex-marine was always silently stealthy when he returned from his frequent coffee runs. The strong smell of industrially brewed java that usually preceded his return and gave him away was absent this time as was the familiar tall paper cup. Agent alert, agent alert! No coffee _and_ the man's normally bad temperament meant no reasoning with him so don't bother trying.

Which is why he would not tell Gibbs that his report would have been ready an hour ago if that crazy Goth lab tech Sciuto, that Gibbs babied like a mewling kitten, but to him was a raving lunatic and vicious lioness, hadn't moved in slow motion finalizing his preliminary evidence report. It just needed her signature but instead of signing it off, she placed it under a stack of folders and said she would get to it when she got to it.

Try telling _that_ to Lead Agent Gibbs, that his favorite forensic-brat was stalling and sabotaging his work because in her bat-like brain, if Tony hadn't been foisted on them Stan Burley would have come back by now. _"And we wouldn't be stuck with the playboy, daddy's-money rich guy, using NCIS and Gibbs as stepping stones to leap to better-known agencies, and what a slimy traitor he would be for even thinking of joining those moldy incompetent boors and leaving Gibbs just to make himself appear one of the so-called top-dogs."_

She had hollered that to his retreating back the last and only time he had ventured down into her bat cave, which made him wonder how she knew he was not planning on staying around for longer than what was left of the 180 days of the torturous sentence he had imposed on himself. He certainly hadn't told her his plans or anyone else in this place that he wasn't in for the long haul so how did she know? Probably had his phones wire tapped and he'd checked his apartment for illegal listening devices when he got home.

In the meantime, her claiming on the one hand that he wasn't wanted in their tight-knit dysfunctional family group and should just get lost to just the opposite, that he should stay out of loyalty to Gibbs, a man he did not like and who didn't like him had convinced him that she had reached a flat-out delusional mind-state that had strayed into the twilight zone. Yeah, she was a nut job alright but tell that to his Royal Highness Gibbs.

"Just printing it out now, Gibbs." Tony ignored the smirk on McChubby's fat face as he got up to retrieve his report from the printer. The disdainful glance his way by the Israeli liaison officer David didn't go unnoticed either but he chose to ignore that also. He just couldn't generate enough energy to concern himself with what they thought because basically he didn't care about them or what they thought about him. He _was_ a temporary alien resident here just like Abby had predicted waiting for something bigger and better than this nondescript deadbeat organization sitting in a corner with a crust of bread orphan-like and still hungry between the big important agencies; the alphabet soup guys with all the thick juicy bits of meat and potatoes.

And that's the way it had been since he had arrived here and started working with these extremely annoying, grim and unfriendly personalities. And Tony convinced himself that he was unaffected by it all because he had other things on his mind. He had still been suffering greatly from his misplaced guilt over young Jason's death by his own hand. He felt he had tragically dropped the ball on that one and that he should have stayed with the kid from beginning to end, made sure he was safe, done something, anything different, tried harder to change something that he could not change now.

It was hard enough trying to adjust to the transition from being a cop to...not being a cop. Add onto that his failure at protecting Jason and there was no wonder he hadn't really taken in the dynamics of what ran this MCRT team. Who cared what politics went on here when he had other negative and more personal things to dwell on? His fiancé Wendy had betrayed him with another man and called off the wedding while he literally waited on the church steps.

Danny Price, who had not made detective yet, was all but dead to him now since he was one of the cops in the Chief's office when... Jason died. Tony was at his lowest faltering point and just wanted to do the job that was assigned to him, nothing else, and get through the day because the forces that stimulated this team were not of important enough to him, he just didn't care.

But in spite of all of that and what he might have wished otherwise, his over active mind went to places on its own and some things still managed to seep in because the fact was Tony was a born investigator and just plain nosy since birth. His thoughts would stray and the team dynamics would intrude and it was easy for him to figure these people out and laugh at them behind their backs at their unimportant, uninteresting ordinariness.

There was no extraordinary greatness about the forensic scientist Abby Sciuto who lived in a fantasy induced dream world that made the hapless Leroy Jethro Gibbs her prince in shining armor. Gibbs was completely unaware that Stan Burley, who Abby had a crush on that bordered on obsession, had fled the place and Abby's crazy strangeness along with Gibbs' unconventional malevolent, bleeding ulcer leadership like his pants were on fire. He made itto the farthest corner of the sea as agent afloat to put that fire out and get some distance and relief away from the two of them.

It was not hidden to him that Ziva David, who some saw as an exotic mysterious lady but who he saw as an exotic... blood-sucking vampire, wanted to be in charge. Period. She was in the process of becoming a US citizen as her first step to becoming Gibbs' senior field agent and then Gibbs' replacement, as his job would be at risk from her ambition. After that, who knew, even though Jenny Shepard and Ziva David appeared to be the very best of friends, Jenny's job was not exempt from Ziva's power-hungry five-year plan of controlling the agency like her father Eli David had control over Mossad. She was a very dangerous, ambitious woman with her sharpened knives and sharp and shiny vampiric, man eating canines.

He and Ziva had clashed from the get go. She gave orders like she was already top dog in command and she seemed to think he was there to usurp her coveted position and become Gibbs' senior field agent and honestly, he had no clue where she came up with that ridiculous idea. Maybe from Abby and their gab sessions together.

Working on that assumption, she tried the same techniques on him that she had enslaved McGee with, including seduction and subjugation. They didn't work. He could flirt with the best of them but at this point he wasn't interested in her or the SFA position, and she had become increasingly frustrated and outright hostile. Her snarling and snapping at him was like baying at a blank wall. He paid her no heed, was outright indifferent to her really, did what he had to do and left the building.

Director Jenny Shepard had been cool and collected or so she thought when she had called him into her office two weeks after he had been hired and ordered him to go undercover and seduce a woman, a doctor, into revealing information about her father, La Grenouille, The Frog. The Director had no compulsion in getting an innocent woman to betray her father just to get what she wanted and she had no problem trying to use Tony as lover and bait in her vengeful plan, even telling him to become intimate with the innocent woman if that's what it took.

Tony refused. He had more than a bad feeling about her underhanded tactics and she wasn't getting him involved in her personal vendetta, no way was that gonna happen. And he didn't like the idea of playing the gigolo to an unsuspecting innocent. Director Shepard's father and The Frog had a history going way back. Jenny was convinced the man had killed her father though evidence suggested he had committed suicide. She wanted revenge against the man she blamed for taking her father away from her and she would do anything to get it, including forcing Tony into a phony love affair with her enemy's daughter.

Tony declined the assignment even though she threatened him with immediate dismissal if he didn't take the job. He called her bluff because he didn't care one way or the other whether he worked there or not and the Director had no choice but to back down. He didn't know it but she couldn't fire him yet, otherwise her agreement with his former Captain would be null and void and she would still owe the man that 'favor'. But there was a fiery vengeful gleam in her eye whenever she looked at him and Tony knew she wasn't finished with him yet. There would be retribution ahead from her if he stayed around long enough.

And then there was pudgy, McPathetic, stuttering genius, computer-expert, nerd and geek. No mystery there. The man was totally under the Mossad female's rigid control. He didn't make a move without a glance in her direction first. The only original thought McGee had expressed in the three months Tony had been there was the type of lunchmeat he preferred on his sandwich for the day. McGee, who sat at his desk head down behind his computer and overate and barely moved during the day, was always over stressed and apprehensive that he would do something to garner Gibbs' or Ziva's attention or worse yet, wrath.

Sometimes Tony thought he saw an emotion in McProbie's eyes that was sorrowfully sad and sick. McGee knew what people were saying about him, that he was hiding behind a woman's skirt, two women's skirts actually; Ziva's, granted a powerful former Mossad woman's skirt, and Abby's short skirt with knee highs and Mary Janes. He didn't like what people said or what he had become, emasculated and physically out of shape, and he didn't know how to get out of it. At least that's what Tony's gut was telling him when he let himself think about McFool at all.

Tony's gut was also telling him, because heaven forbid they should actually have a conversation that he and their boss Gibbs had a lot in common. They were both in the same state of non-caring. Gibbs didn't appear to care about anything, certainly not his individual team members, except getting the job done, keeping the 'solved' rate numbers reasonable, and according to spiteful gossip, going home to his booze and basement boat.

Gibbs didn't know or acted like he couldn't care less about Ziva's 'takeover the agency plans' or McGee's tortured loss of manhood, much less Tony's issues. The only two responses his team expected from him were impatience and extreme impatience. Tony was not even on his radar. Gibbs had told Tony that he was hired because the Director was an idiot and had made some kind of foul deal or lost a bet with the devil. _Do your job and stay out of my way or get lost! _Was Gibbs' friendly effusive greeting to him when he showed up for work his first day and had simply asked what desk to sit at. Fine by him! Since then Gibbs had ignored him except to growl when the team wasn't moving fast enough, smart enough or hard enough! Good, Tony wasn't looking for any new best friends either. They just let you down, hard.

Finishing up his report, Tony placed it on Gibbs desk, went to the break room to grab a quick sugary snack and then sat back down at his desk stuck with an overflowing box of cold cases previously shelved in a closet full of cold cases to peruse until an active case came their way.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

After hours of staring at the same three short paragraphs, Tony finally figured out what had been bothering him all along about this cold case and a dead female petty officer, and what was raising the hair on the back of his neck. The subtle clue had been glaring at him in the face and wouldn't let him move on but he just hadn't figured it out until now. His team and Calvin's team before them had been searching, and even when Burley had still been here, it had been an ongoing endeavor.

"Hey, Boss Gibbs?" Gibbs looked up at Tony in annoyance. He had already warned the idiot about calling him that but this DiNozzo guy seemed impervious to his snappish demands and ill-tempered orders regarding the simple task of how to address him. Gibbs would take up head-slapping for the desired effect like his boss Mike had used to use on him when warranted but that would involve being up close and personal to the rather dimwitted agent and he was not in the mood.

The loss of his beloved wife and daughter had been brought starkly back to remembrance after Gibbs' most recent head injury and coma. Add onto that the shame he felt at his most recent messy divorce kept him bitter and even more unapproachable and not in the mood for DiNozzo's foolishness.

"What! And don't call me Boss Gibbs! It's either Boss or Gibbs, you got that?"

"Yes, sir, Gibbs, Boss, sir," said with a clumsy two-fingered salute and derisive smirk.

"Well?" Gibbs questioned impatiently, angrily, because there was always that infuriating smirk on the other man's face and in his demeanor. Oh, he played the part of just a good-natured affable guy but Gibbs wasn't born yesterday. This DiNozzo guy was no innocent, naive newbie. You saw what he wanted you to see unless you had a gut like Gibbs and plenty of foresight, and this guy was playing them all for fools.

Gibbs saw below the surface when he was inclined and because he was suspicious of this clown he was looking and he saw broadcasted loud and clear DiNozzo's utter contempt and lack-of-respect for him, his teammates and NCIS. Though he schooled his features well and his face seldom lost its bland expression, there was that brief smirk, and his expressive twinkling green eyes, that gave away that he was laughing at them and Gibbs was getting tired of it.

What was so funny about his team? They did their job, had one of the better case closure rates though not the highest and that's all that mattered when all was said and done, wasn't it? Gibbs found himself getting more irritated, which according to all his exes upped his grumpiness factor, at this whole stinking issue and the irritant that was DiNozzo. _To hell with it! Let's see what kind of clue the dumbbell thinks he's found, that none of the other, more experienced veteran agents were able to find._

Tony approached Gibbs' desk with the cold case folder in hand. All clowning aside, he was convinced that this bit of information had turned this into a hot case, he was absolutely certain about that.

"That's pretty farfetched, DiNozzo." Gibbs eyed the agent skeptically after hearing the lame brained new evidence. "You're talking one drop of blood in a roomful of blood?" _Are ya' nuts? Figured the bonehead had nothing worthwhile to offer._

"Can we at least check it out? We have nothing to lose by asking a few more questions."

"Fine, take McGee with you and ask your questions, bring them in if they give you any trouble." Gibbs turned away done with the subject and not seeing or ignoring the grimace of displeasure on McGee's face or the scowl of protest on Ziva's. But neither agent said anything out loud to Gibbs as McGee reluctantly grabbed his go bag and trailed along behind Tony with a last glance at Ziva before the elevator door closed.

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The ride to their destination seemed awkwardly quiet to McGee. Neither man had anything to say to the other, not the time of day nor the always good fill-in for conversation stoppers, a comment about the weather. Tim felt uneasy but he noticed DiNozzo seemed to take the quiet all in stride, blatantly ignoring Tim and entertaining himself by singing along under his breath some tune playing on the radio, even accompanying himself on the makeshift steering wheel drums.

Finally, the ill at ease ride was over and Tony pulled up in front of their witness's house, turned the engine off and started to exit the car while throwing casual instructions over his shoulder at McGee.

"I'll ask the questions, McGee so..." McGee hunched his shoulders and butted in before DiNozzo could finish.

"Wha, what! Why you? I'm um, I'm just as qualified, hmph, probably more so than you, DiNozzo, to ask...to question the witness." Tony regained his seat as he turned back to the stuttering Tim.

"Is that so, McBaby?" Tony's grin was not nice. "Well, _I_ found the clue so you're..."

Tim again interrupted in an insolence tinged voice. "Yeah, that's so! And some _clue_, ha! Even Gibbs thinks it's asinine. I saw his face when he told you to talk to this so called witness. He just wanted to get you out of the office and out of his face, and to quit bothering him with your stupid lamebrain nonsense of a clue. And you can stop calling me your unoriginal made up names, DiNozzo, nobody's impressed, it just makes you look like a moron."

Tim was making up for his uncomfortably frustrating ride over in the car with his overly sullen remarks and putdowns. Why should he feel awkward and ineffectual all the time when DiNozzo was confidence personified and what was worse to Tim, treated him like a nonentity, a nobody, someone to mock and belittle when not being ignored. Yeah, he'd figured that out about DiNozzo who thought he, Tim, was a joke of an investigator, a sniveling skirt following coward, and that the idea that Tim was any good as an agent ridiculous and laughable.

McGee was eaten up by resentment at DiNozzo's attitude and the awful thought that maybe he was right maybe he _was_ no good as an investigator. Maybe he should have stayed in the Cyber-crimes unit where at least he was shown a little respect and there was no DiNozzo, Gibbs or especially Ziva and Abby to tear down his confidence and...and his manhood.

The uneasy atmosphere Gibbs' team generated; suspicion and mistrust of each other, had Tim paranoid and fearful that the team would not have his 'six' _or, _just as important, and scarier that he would not have theirs. The pervading uneasy dark climate in the bullpen and out in the field that was caused mainly by Gibbs and certainly spurned on by DiNozzo's closed-off hardness, and Ziva's truculence and always simmering violence especially when Gibbs wasn't around, left McGee perpetually nervous and on edge, and stammering like he was back in front of his demanding father.

Ziva's comments along the lines of '_Obviously DiNozzo does not understand the way things are done around here, Timothy. The chain of command_ _was in place for a reason and I believe he will bypass us in order to garner undeserved favor from Gibbs. He must be watched closely, _kept Tim doubly stressed and off kilter, and sucking down a bottle of antacid every evening. Way to trust your partners.

And her almost inaudible whispered comment as they were leaving the office earlier hadn't helped, _'Be careful Tim, remember what I said. He_ _is a sucker upper and back piercer,' _had made him tense and irritable before he even left the building though secretly Tim wondered where she got that kind of information. _Suck up and back stabber, really? _He winced every time Ziva attempted and botched her newfound idioms and ruined metaphors. Even though most of the time he knew what she meant, he daren't offer a correction when she went off on them. But he questioned her reasoning in his mind and had come up with no logical answer. No doubt DiNozzo _was_ there to get points on his way up the proverbial ladder and Tim agreed wholeheartedly with Abby's vocally loud opinion that Tony was using NCIS as a stepping stone. But so what, that didn't make him a back stabber, did it?

Abby had shared the break room gossip, that he had no doubt she had started, that the only reason the rich frat-boy _was_ there was because the Director had been blackmailed by an outside source, probably his daddy's money, to put DiNozzo on the team. The Director's secretary said Gibbs and Director Shepard had a knock down drag out when she told him she had hired the ex-cop sight unseen and placed him on Gibbs' team without his knowledge or approval. The two had been at odds with each other ever since.

So Tim was compelled, egged on by Ziva and Abby's questionable influence and his own insecurities, to assert his seniority and his superiority as an investigator to this late-comer who dared to think otherwise lest he, Tim, be ignominiously and without fanfare supplanted from his hard earned position on Gibbs' team, and what he feared the most, his poor contribution to the team was so obscure that no one would even notice his absence.

After staring a world of animosity at each other like two opposing linebackers and DiNozzo'd finally had enough of the other agent's puffed up head and flat out insults, he eyed McGee up and down and smirked. "How's about this," Tony sneered. "I'll agree you're a better investigator than me if you can tell me you've seen the inside of a gym in the last six months, porky." Tony ignored the shocked look and yes, hurt, and jumped out of the vehicle with alacrity and last parting words. "Come or stay. No matter to me."

McGee bit his lip in embarrassment and refused to think about his double chin and protruding belly as he watched the physically fit man saunter up to the witness's front door. He sat there for another moment drowning in his insecurities before his conscience kicked in. He had to face it, it wasn't DiNozzo's fault he felt inadequate and had low self-esteem but it _was_ his job to cover his partner's back and he couldn't do it sitting in the car nursing his hurt feelings. He jumped out of the car and ran to catch up to this man who was his partner alienated though they were. Even if DiNozzo couldn't stand him and vice versa, they were still partners, who else would cover their six?

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If Tim could read minds, he would have been surprised at Tony's thoughts.

_What am I, in grade school? You could give the guy a break, DiNozzo, flinging insults and name calling like you were nine years old? Really? What happened to 'sticks and stones'? Even if he started it. But claiming to be a better investigator than me. Please! Still, I probably shouldn't have kicked the kid when he's down but where does the guy get off trying to tell me what to do. Oh yeah, sly Ziva David said something to him before we left that she thought I didn't hear. But Ms David doesn't know everything, probie. My hearing's as good as my eyesight, dummies, something you guys obviously don't know, and I'm not telling them that they should be careful what they whisper around me if they really don't want me to hear it._

_I guess McGee decided not to sit in the car and sulk 'cause I can hear him breathing down my neck like he has emphysema as he runs to catch up. No kidding, seriously, how does the man pass his physical every year with that much weight he's carrying around his middle? I'd offer to take him on my eight-mile run but I can see it now. He'd first stutter in no uncertain terms where to shove my running shoes then sic his Ninja protector on my derrière to kick my teeth out for even suggesting he get off his fat ass and away from his computer games. Ah, who cares? I'll be through with this whole crazy bunch of misfits soon enough and hopefully on to a better job._

_So, I'm knocking on the witness's door and McGee is huffing behind me like an aged locomotive with a head cold when the door opens and suddenly I've got lockjaw. The specter of dead Jason is staring at me, glasses and all, and my heart starts racing, it's going into shock at this tragically sad hallucination. I've lost the ability to breathe and nothing comes out of my mouth, not words or air. This can't be. I'm mute and surely I must be deaf because the kid's mouth is moving but I don't hear a thing, not even a chirping bird or McGee's huffing and puffing. The kid's eyes are getting bigger and shinier behind his glasses and he's starting to look a little panicked at my lack of...anything. He's backing up and ready to slam the door in my face when McGee finally figures out there's something really wrong with me and pushes in front of me. _

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It took a few minutes but Tim's mighty brain kicked in at the awkward impasse and he stepped in front of the suddenly frozen agent and pushed the door back so it didn't fully close.

"Please, uh, sorry about that but we're Federal agents and we need to speak to a Sam Arroyo."

"Marcus, who's at the door?" A deep male voice coming from inside the house seemed to penetrate the fog in DiNozzo's brain and he snapped back to the here and now with a shudder.

"They said they're Federal agents, Dad," the kid said over his shoulder to the tall man who came into view from behind the door. The man moved the boy aside and told him to go to his room then turned to the two men somewhat suspiciously. "What can I do for you fellas?"

When Tony still stood like a pillar of salt and had no comment or question, McGee piped up. "Uh, yes, Mr Arroyo, um, I'm agent Tim McGee and this is Agent Tony DiNozzo from NCIS. We're re-investigating the death of your wife, petty officer Claire Arroyo and we, uh..."

"Look, I told you everything I knew back then and I don't know anything else now, sorry you came all the way out here for nothing. Now if you'll excuse me." And Mr Arroyo attempted to close the door.

Tony cleared his froggy throat then said quickly, "Look, Mr Arroyo, we know that Marcus was there and saw what happened. We know because your DNA was already on file and recent tests of a previously unidentified and degraded DNA sample found at the scene has been identified with the aid of more modern techniques of identification. The DNA sample shows a close familial tie to your DNA..."

Sam Arroyo inhaled suddenly and stared wild-eyed at the agents then looked around quickly outside and behind them before beckoning them into the house.

"Tony, what are you talking about? We don't know..." Tim hissed out of the side of his mouth while scowling at Tony in disapproval at the bold-faced lie. They had no specimen of Marcus Arroyo's DNA to compare to anything, did they?

Tony glared at the idiot and mouthed at him through clenched teeth, "Would you shut up!" while Mr Arroyo's back was turned. Tony shoved McGee non-too-gently aside and followed Sam Arroyo into the neat, well-kept home. Arroyo led them to the empty living room and the agents sat on the sofa indicated while Arroyo sat across from them in an overstuffed chair. Marcus was nowhere in sight.

Sam Arroyo got right to the point. "Look, Marc was five years old, just five years old when his mother was killed and he still has nightmares about it. He doesn't know anything about what happened and I doubt you can get any judge to put a fourteen-year-old boy on the stand to testify about something that happened nine years ago. Besides, the statute of limitations has probably run out by this time, right?" Arroyo stared at them hopefully for any sign this was true.

The man was grasping at straws, Tony knew that, had felt the same way at times. Desperate to keep someone safe and Tony wasn't about to absolve him of the attempt to protect his boy. That was his job too, to protect the innocent, even though his last effort had been a dismal failure.

"The statute of limitations on homicides does not run out, Mr Arroyo. If Marcus knows something, we need to bring him to our office for...uh, that is..." Tim stuttered to a halt as Tony gave him a death glare equal to one he had seen on Gibbs stern visage not too long ago.

Tim could actually hear the silent derisive message from Tony toshut his blubbering mouth and that his interrogation techniques stank. And the cold look on Tony's face instead of the usually affable one was a shock. Message received and McGee effectively silenced, Tony turned back to the concerned father.

"Mr Arroyo look, the farthest thing from our minds is to do anything that might hurt Jason..." Tony cleared his throat again. "Sorry. Anything that might harm Marcus; I promise you whatever you tell us today I will keep Marc's name out of it." Tony felt Tim's unbelieving wide-eyed stare on him again at this rash fabrication and he was getting tired of the naive man's cluelessness. _That's what we do, McGee. We lie to people all the time, we deceive and promise things we know we can't deliver._

_But he would keep this one safe._

"You said in your statement to the police that Marcus was at the playground with his aunt and cousins but that obviously wasn't so. Tell us what really happened, Mr Arroyo."

Tony leaned towards the man unthreateningly, sincere, hands held out in supplication and McGee kept his mouth tightly closed. But he was confused, where had that information come from? How_ did_ Tony figure out that Marcus had been here? It wasn't in any of the reports he had read.

Arroyo weighed his options as he eyed the two men. Continue to deny everything or trust these two agents to keep Marc out of it. Andhe _had_ kept Marc out of it to protect him but Marc had told him recently that his nightmares were about a man with sharp pointy teeth who had hurt his mother and he wanted that man to pay for what he had done. Marcus was brave, braver than his father even, and holding him back from telling what he thought he remembered from nine years ago was not doing the boy a favor. Not anymore, he was getting older, he wanted answers. He deserved answers.

Mind made up, Sam Arroyo related what his son had told him. "Marcus wasn't at the park, he'd had a cold and had to stay home. His mother had taken the day off to stay home with him. She was in the kitchen making lunch, peanut butter and honey sandwiches, carrots and raisins, cut up apples, chocolate soy milk. Marcus' favorites.

_Marc, lunch is ready, turn off the TV and come and eat._

_Okay, Mama, coming. _Marc carried his children's scissors and cut out heart to the kitchen with him for a surprise for his mother.

_They_ came in through the unlocked front door after breaking the glass and mesh screen door. He had turned the TV off but hadn't made it to the kitchen yet when he heard his mother scream once. He didn't know she was dead right after that scream with one of her kitchen knives embedded in her neck but he knew he couldn't stay there so he ran to the third bedroom like his parents had told him to do and crawled into the closet.

It was an old house that his parents had made quaint and comfortable and they had left the original doors with the old fashioned key holes just right to peek out of. He peeked through the keyhole and could see one of the guys who had eyebrows like he could fly and the teeth. And that's how he saw the man with the sharpened little teeth when he grinned at him when he flung the closet door open after they came into the third bedroom.

The grinning guy grabbed at him but he threw himself backwards into a bundle of clothes and shoes and flung his hands out to get away. He still had the child scissors in his hand and he heard the guy grunt as he pulled his hand back and cursed but the guy stopped when they all heard wailing sirens and he thought the police were finally coming to help his mother, and so evidently did the intruders because there was more cursing as they retreated from the room and headed for the back door. As it was, the sirens were from an ambulance on a different call not the police, but Marcus didn't know that.

"That's all he saw, Agent DiNozzo, I questioned him thoroughly right away in privacy so he wouldn't be afraid and I certainly wasn't going to let the police third degree him."

Arroyo had been determined then as he was now to spare his kid and DiNozzo didn't argue the point.

"After they left," Arroyo continued, "he said he ran to the kitchen and tried to help his mother by getting a towel and trying to pull the knife out of her neck and he must have cut himself then. He was only five, but he knew he needed to get help for his mother so he ran out the open back door and to the park to his aunt who called me. I hid him away with his grandmother, told the authorities he hadn't been there. Those men were still out there, had seen him and could hurt him too. That's all I cared about that he be kept safe, he's all I had left, my wife was gone..."

Arroyo broke down and cried. "Dad!" And to Tony's consternation, the boy who looked too much like Jason ran into the room and flung his arm around his dad's shoulder. "Dad, don't. It'll be alright, dad." And the boy looked at them with concerned, unhappy accusing eyes for putting his father through what was obviously still torture to him.

With tremendous effort, Tony maintained eye contact with Marcus though he wanted to look anywhere else than at the boy with the shiny reflective glasses staring innocently at him who brought back tortured memories of his own.

"I'm sorry, Marc. We didn't mean to upset your father or you for that matter. But your father said you wanted to know who kil...harmed your mother and we're here to help find the bad men who did this."

Marc shook his head determinedly. "I'm not afraid and I want to help."

Sam Arroyo had pulled himself together and straightened his shoulders. These men's unexpected arrival on this date precipitated his emotional breakdown. Stalwart and strong, that's what he tried to be for Marc but the anniversary of his wife's untimely death was today and he and Marc had stayed home from work and school as they always did when this time of year came around. Maybe it was for the best, a sign that they needed to do this. He hugged his kid warmly then turned to the agents.

"There is something, Mr Arroyo, I need to see." Tony tried not to be insensitive but he had to ask.

"When Marc was in that closet." And here Tony addressed Marc directly, "And I want to say, Marc that you were really brave to defend yourself the way you did and to try to help your mother, okay. But when you were in that closet, it sounds like you might have wounded the man who was trying to hurt you with those scissors.

"Mr Arroyo, and please excuse me for asking this, but have you had the opportunity to clean out that room especially the closet where Marc was hiding? I ask this because if the police didn't know Marc was there, they might not have gone over the room as thoroughly as they should. If Marc was able to cut the man, perhaps there's still some evidence available that..."

Marc jumped up excited. "I'll show you, Detective Tony." _Oh, God, why did he have to call him that? _Tony suffered another unwelcome, unwanted memory lane moment.

"Good, good, Marc, but it's Agent, not Detective."

"Oh, sorry about that. I was watching this show on TV before you came and there was a Detective who..."

Tony listened to the teenager's chatter as he slung his bag over his shoulder and followed the Arroyo's to the upstairs bedroom with a now silent frowning McGee trailing behind. The bedroom was sparsely furnished but like the rest of the house was neat, tidy. Once at the bedroom door, Mr Arroyo stopped and stared into space. He seemed almost embarrassed when he related that he hadn't stepped foot in the room since his wife had died. "I don't know what's in the closet. I never checked...Marc hid in there, that might have saved his life, I don't...the cleaning lady dusts once a week but I don't think she bothers with the closet..."

Arroyo was obviously upset again and Marc stopped at the door and seemed reluctant to move any further into the room and away from his father.

"It's okay, Mr Arroyo, Agent McGee will go back down with you, I'll take it from here."

_What? Take what from here? What was DiNozzo doing, looking for some scrap of clothing...?_ McGee was getting good and tired of being left out of things. He threw a dirty look over his shoulder at his partner but left with the Arroyo's as suggested.

Fifteen minutes later Tony returned to the living room where Arroyo sat slumped on the sofa with a mug of coffee in hand. He straightened when DiNozzo entered the room and pointed towards the coffee pot and mugs on the side table. "Help yourself to coffee. Marc took the other Agent to his room to show him his computer, he's really into that technology stuff...did you find what you need, Agent DiNozzo?"

"No coffee for me right now, thanks. I found a shirt with what appears to be blood but we'll know for sure once I get it back to the lab..."

"Dad, Agent McGee told me there's a tech class that's open to kids at the Quantico extension program and I'd like to attend," said Marc eagerly as they came back into the room.

"We'll talk about it later, Marc. What do we do now, Agent DiNozzo?"

"I want Marc to look at some mugshots...pictures of men in a book. Would that be alright?"

Marc looked at his dad, who squeezed his shoulder encouragingly, before answering.

"Alright, alright, Agent DiNozzo. It's ironic isn't it, me thinking we could go on hiding while Marcus here braves the open to get justice for his mother. I trust you...I have to trust you to keep Marc safe, don't I?"

Arroyo shrugged recognizing the inevitability that this day _would _someday be upon them. "What time should I bring him to your office?"

"You won't have to, I'll bring the mugshots here later today around four. How's that?" Tony felt rather than saw the expected disapproving glare from McGee at flouting Gibbs' orders to bring any suspect in but he ignored him. Tony stood and shook Arroyo's hand then Marcus'. "I'll see you a little later and, Marc, it will be alright, okay. Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid, Agent DiNozzo. Thanks for the help with my computer, Agent McGee."

Tim said his goodbyes before hurrying after Tony who was already at the front door.

They made it halfway down the driveway when Sam Arroyo came striding after them.

"There's something else," he said as he walked with them down to their car. "I don't know if it means anything but something was going on at work that was disturbing her there, I don't know, I just don't know. But there was a co-worker, a woman, my wife said she had become overly friendly, asked a lot of questions, even came over uninvited one night when I wasn't home; brought my wife her time card and said she had forgotten to sign it. It was all suspicious and made my wife jittery. Claire cut her off after that, even told her not to show up at the house unannounced again."

"Do you know the woman's name?" McGee had his notebook out and pen taking notes.

"No, she never said, just dismissed it as nothing but she worked in the same part of the building with her. But after she was...taken away from us, there was another break-in at my house when Marcus and I went to spend time with his mother's parents. We were gone bout three weeks but when I got back, things had been moved around in the house. It was very subtle but I could tell someone had been there looking for something. And the robbery, when she was killed, two men who hardly took anything but killed her, in broad daylight, with my son in the house like they were desperate to find something. She didn't have time to struggle, they just murdered her in cold blood, who does that on a whim?" It was obvious Arroyo had been thinking about this and he seemed relieved to talk it out with someone.

"Okay, Mr Arroyo. Please calm down that helps a lot." Tony said patiently as the two agents stood at the side of the agency vehicle. "Did anything else happen?"

Arroyo realized his voice had risen and quieted down as he looked back at his house. "I've wanted to sell this house for a couple of years but Marcus gets upset if I even talk about moving away. I think he's waiting for his mother's killers to be caught before he can leave this place. I'm sorry, I'm rambling, but find who did this, Agents, please!" Arroyo begged them to find his wife's killer; closure wouldn't come for him or Marcus until that happened. He nodded once at each of them then turned abruptly and went back to his home where Marcus had pushed the curtains back and was peering anxiously out of the window.

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The car ride back was not silent this time as McGee had plenty to say to DiNozzo about all the mistakes he had made.

"You didn't find anything, did you in that closet. It's ridiculous to think you would after all this time and Gibbs told us to bring the witness in to be questioned. What do you think you were doing, what's Gibbs going to say when he finds out we left the witness at home? And not only that but telling Mr Arroyo that Marcus won't have to testify or be involved? Are you nuts? Where do you get off...where did you get your training anyway? Obviously, you haven't spent any time at FLETC or even learned the basic 101 investigations for dummies. Gibbs is going to...this is a holy mess and I absolve myself from this...this...I c-c-can't believe...

"And now what? Conspiracies, espionage, cloak and dagger crap? Some woman at work stalking her? Are you believing any of that? And what, pray tell, was that suddenly gone silent act at the front door about? You all of a sudden not prattling your usual brainless nonsense mistakenly called questioning the witness...the world must be coming to an end...y. ...ah..." Tim finally puttered out of words to express DiNozzo's ongoing stupidity.

Tony endured the scolding stoically enough eyeing the sulking man beside him with a look McGee couldn't place but knew it wasn't one that depicted admiration for his abilities or even friendliness.

"You done, McReprimand?" Tony asked as he started up the car. "Actually, I didn't know you had it in you, McGee. Does Ms Mossad know of this hidden aggressive trait of yours, or, I know, you can only speak out when she's not around to slap your dirty little mouth and send you to the corner for time out."

Tim shook with rage and impotence at yet again with the put-downs, name calling and insults. Gritting his teeth in frustration and conveniently overlooking the fact that he had just balled DiNozzo out with scornful abuse about _his_ abilities, he thought about punching DiNozzo in his jaw. Not a good idea while the man was driving as that could get them both killed, plus he'd lose his job, but he was running out of patience with this guy. All the secrecy about checking the closet, something he could have told him on the way over. The fact that he didn't know what DiNozzo was doing from one minute to the next was the last straw. He was sick of it, sick of being left out like he wasn't part of this team.

Tim knew on a gut level that he wasn't being reasonable. That even if DiNozzo had tried to discuss his plans with him during the ride over, he probably would have scoffed and mocked at him during his entire explanation. So instead he ends up trailing behind playing catch-up; clueless and useless, dammit. Tim wasn't in the best of shape that was a no-brainer but he was at the point where he was ready to call the other agent out, go one-on-one with him, get in some licks before DiNozzo knocked his lights out.

Getting physical was not his usual solution to problems but he'd give it his best shot, take the risk and start swinging. It's just he couldn't seem to get this guy to take him seriously. He had legitimate concerns. For instance, Gibbs was going to be angry, Tsunami angry, erupting volcano, blow his top, strongly displeased angry. And two, Tim hadn't read the report but he was sure there was no blood from Marcus. And even though Arroyo had confessed that Marc _had _been there, Tony had still lied to Sam Arroyo.

He could see it now when they got back to the office after Gibbs did his yelling thing or even scarier glaring thing. As if that wasn't humiliating enough, Ziva would smirk unpleasantly and smile disarmingly and give him false sympathetic glances and then make uncomplimentary and disparagingly rude remarks and putdowns when Gibbs' back was turned. He couldn't quit this job, run away in defeat with his tail between his legs like his high ranking navy officer, by-the-book, quintessential military father the Admiral had predicted, that just wasn't an option.

Tim suddenly realized that the car had stopped and was actually parked at the Navy yard, and that Tony had turned and was staring at him.

"Well, McGee? Smoke's been seeping out of your ears for twenty minutes now I had to roll down the window for some clear air. You got something more to say to me with what's left of your fried brain matter?"

After all that brain ranting and raving about being left out of the loop, all McGee had to say was, "Yeah, I've got something to say! Why don't you ever _shut up,_ that's what I've got to say, DiNozzo! Just shut up!"

DiNozzo snorted in glee, his eyes glistened in merriment.

_Always the jokester at someone else's expense, my expense, _thought Tim.

"Oohh, make me."

Tim stared at the other agent. He saw every bully in that smirking hateful face. Every person, man or woman, who used their strength or power to cause harm or intimidate others weaker than they were. The jocks and athletes, his father included, all of them existing to make his life a living hell.

DiNozzo knew exactly when Tim had had enough teasing as the younger agent telegraphed his intentions loud and clear before he even raised his fist to strike. Tony had his hand up to intercept the blow before that fist could connect to his jaw and deliver some serious hurt. He held Tim's fist tightly for a moment longer before letting it go.

"But not here!" Tony said grimly, all joking aside. "You want to have a go at me, we'll do it at the NCIS gym with boxing gloves and safety gear, not sitting in the car wasting time just so you can get back at me with a sucker punch."

Tim's angry eyes and thinned lips spoke volumes. He opened his car door, grabbed his go-bag and finally said what was really on his mind. "You could have told me what was going on, we're supposed to be partners." Then he turned and left while Tony still sat in the car with a strangely resigned look on his face.

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS. No money being made

Beta: Mike91848

Warning: Same as chapter one

CHAPTER TWO

BLACK AS PIT FROM POLE TO POLE

Previously on NCIS

_"You could have told me..." Tim's angry eyes and thinned lips spoke volumes. McGee opened his car door, grabbed his go-bag and left Tony still sitting there without looking back, and totally missing the bemused look on DiNozzo's face._

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony arrived in the bullpen minutes after McGee had stormed away. Gibbs was not at his desk but Tim was sitting at his and Ziva was looming over him with her hands on his desk demanding a sit-rep. Ziva _looming_ seemed incongruously not right being that she was a petite woman but her short stature was offset by her dangerous aura and the real physical menace she had proven to be to her enemies.

"I c-c-c...I can..." Tim stuttered.

Tony actually pitied the stammering younger man whose backbone had apparently softened up again. The Probie had been pretty bold and forward when he was blasting _him_ about all _his_ faults. By the looks of it, McGee must have used up all of that strut and swagger and hadn't had time to reboot enough to face the Israeli's aggression head on.

Tony was even tempted to tell Ziva to back off, give the guy a break but then again who was he to interfere in what went on between the two of them. Tony slung his bag under his desk and took his seat only to turn around startled to confront that same Israeli female, whose face was closed off and whose thoughts were carefully guarded, standing in front of his desk.

He grinned a toothy friendly grin, which belied the cold irritation he was feeling. He was better at hiding than she was which caused her to be unsettled and off balance, and to underestimate him most of the time as a goofy meatball with rubbery spaghetti.

He asked her cordially. "Can I help you, Agent David?" She took his measure as she stared at him with dark hooded eyes. She was always trying to find the right box to shove him into, neatly labeled and categorized. Should she try to seduce or intimidate? She couldn't play the 'daddy' card that she was trying to use on Gibbs; DiNozzo was too young to be her surrogate father. Adversaries then, because really that was her want, what she was the most comfortable with.

"Tony, well, yes, Agent McGee said you had found a new witness on this cold case but you did not bring him in. May I ask why?" She said coolly.

Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the question. So it would be the cold shoulder treatment this go-round, though he welcomed the absence of the charming coy seductress routine. Until the right woman came along, he was a lover and a player at heart and usually more than willing to play the flirtatious game with women as long as they both knew it was superficial and meaningless. But with Ziva, superficial and meaningless via Mossad 101 meant something altogether different from his jock PE playboy degree. More like a loss of manhood and will of his own was her definition of a relationship with her, as evidenced by her treatment of poor MIT McGee, and he just wasn't up to the challenge right now.

"Ah, you may ask, Ms David. Just suffice it to say that I had my reasons and..."

"Yeah, DiNozzo? I'd like to hear those reasons myself. Why isn't your witness sitting in the interrogation room? Weren't my instructions clear enough for you?" _Moron! _Gibbs thought it but didn't say it out loud; something to do with abusing employees and their rights and causing a hostile working environment that he had been warned about by more than one Director.

Already irritated after returning and finding an empty interrogation room and no show witness he was further annoyed at DiNozzo's continued defiance and David's pushy assumption that she was in charge when he wasn't around.

"Well?" Gibbs growled at Tony when his answer didn't come fast enough.

"Clear enough, Gibbs, you see..." Tony knew he had to make his case quickly and succinctly to a highly impatient attention deficit man who'd just as soon bite his head off at the neck than have to listen for more than five seconds to a long drawn out explanation about why his peremptory orders weren't immediately obeyed. And Tony had had time to come up with a plausible reason for his actions while driving back to the office with a thankfully silent but fuming Probie in the passenger seat.

Unfortunately, McGee was still smarting from DiNozzo's putdowns and insults and leaving him out of things. Then, to top it off, he had gotten back to his desk only to face a frigid, threatening Ziva David looming over him demanding answers. It was just too much for his frazzled nerves so he stood up and spoke out louder than he intended, yelling almost, to finally put DiNozzo in his place.

"DiNozzo lied to the witness! He said there was blood...there was no blood found at the scene other than the decedent's, Gibbs, and he promised this witness that he wouldn't have to come in or testify in court. This is all a big joke to him. Making promises he knows he can't keep. The supposed evidence..."

Gibbs turned his piercing icy gaze to DiNozzo who sat there with his mouth open glaring at McGee. Gibbs had _known _DiNozzo would be trouble. Whatever this latest farce was, maybe now he could taunt Shepard with an 'I told you so,' and she'd swallow her pride and admit to the colossal mistake she'd made in hiring this bozo and fire his incompetent ass.

McGee finally ran out of words and sat down only then noticing the large audience of other agents and staff haggling to get better seats at the live entertainment his loud outburst had produced. He was mortified, he must have sounded like a petulant child tattling on the class bully, oh god, and there was the Director leaning over the rail listening from above.

Crushing his empty coffee cup roughly as though he pictured the cardboard as DiNozzo's head, Gibbs stalked over to the agent and got in his face. "What in the hell are you playing at, DiNozzo?"

Tony had risen from his chair too to confront Gibbs because that's what it always felt like when dealing with this man, spiteful confrontations and hostility; never just a conversation to share knowledge or the pleasantries of life. "If you would just give me more than a second to explain, Gibbs. I di..."

Turning rudely away from DiNozzo in mid speech, Gibbs impatiently instructed the other two agents, "David, McGee, go pick up the witness! NOW!" He barked when they didn't move fast enough.

"Geez, Gibbs, would you just wait a minute!" Tony raised his voice to be heard as he saw the situation slipping out of his control. No one was listening to him and he finally lost his own temper when the other two agents prepared to head out.

At this point, uncaring of the consequences Tony bellowed to Gibbs face. "I SAID WAIT JUST A DAMN MINUTE YOU FREAKIN' IDIOT!" And he picked up his stapler and slammed it back down on his desk.

The room had already been reduced to a silent watching vigil after McGee's histrionics but the quiet got a whole lot noisier. All nervous motion in the room stopped. David and McGee stood stationery in various stages of getting their weapons and turning off their computers, their wide-eyed faces a picture of stark disbelief. DiNozzo had just yelled at the Boss and disparaged his intelligence.

For a moment Tony saw the room in black and white grays until a particularly aggressive sunbeam intruded through the window and broke the spell, and brought light and color into focus in the shades of orange wall and scrap of white tee-shirt below the thunderous flushed red face and flinty blue eyes of Lead Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

When the momentary haziness disappeared and he came out of the night that covered him, Tony was left with clarity of thought and mind. He stared into the hostile eyes of Gibbs and faced the fact that he had failed one boy in the past in part because of men like Gibbs, men who wielded their power and authority over people like a double anvil over their heads ready to fall and crush, and he would not let it happen again.

He'd get Marcus away, out of the clutches of unfeeling, cowardly selfish people who'd use a poor defenseless boy to make them feel bigger and more powerful or for their own agenda; to heat up a cold case and move up on the list of most solved cases to win a tainted tin medal award. No! He'd warn the father, help them flee with new ID's, money and names.

Past and present blurred together and now in a blind panic and some post-traumatic stress, DiNozzo saw again that youthful arm protruding from its yellow shroud. He had stopped differentiating between the two teenagers at some point as he started to reach for his badge to throw it on his desk; his gun would be next and then he would flee this place.

To save a boy he couldn't save before.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Director Shepard reached the bottom step in her hasty descent to the bullpen after hearing and observing the commotion and yelling from above. Gibbs' legendary dark moods and inflexible bearing once his mind was made up was once again about to sabotage her plans with the stubborn Tony DiNozzo as her main player.

Now, DiNozzo was getting ready to storm out, probably for good. The, 'I quit', accompanying his discarded badge would be the next words out of his mouth. And not to be outdone, she could hear Gibbs' gravelly voice bellowing in tandem, 'you're fired!' Over her dead body!

She parked herself strategically in front of Tony so his tall frame would have to climb on the desk and over her to move away. She glared at Gibbs who had backed away from DiNozzo, probably to reel in his temper so he wasn't a death threat to the younger man anymore. McGee and David were still standing stock still at their desks as yet incapable of movement or decisive action.

"I thought I told you two to go pick up the witness. What're you still standing around here for?" Gibbs made up their minds for them as he stubbornly refused to back down from his position. He pictured this whole scene as downright degrading to NCIS and how far it had fallen under the lady Director's leadership. Something like disobeying a direct order would not have happened in the marines; or under Tom Morrow's marine style leadership, for that matter, where men and women were taught how to obey an order with alacrity or suffered the consequences.

Director Shepard had her own plans. "Hold up on that, David, McGee; the rest of you standing around, get back to work!" Shepard glared at the congregated staff standing around in small groups and at the water cooler ostensibly working but really gleefully listening in on the juicy gossipy future break room fodder about the team they loved to hate. She shooed the slackers back to work and waited until they reluctantly started moving before turning back to the MCRT.

"Agent, Gibbs? Would you and your team report to my office immediately?" She smiled genially, certain that her command would not be mistaken for a request.

Or maybe it would. "Sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong again, Jenny? I thought I told you about that before." Gibbs taunted her with a knowing smirk and too familiar ogling gaze.

Director Shepard cursed her fair complexion. The arrogance of the man was infuriating and she knew her face was suffused with heightened color. He could always bring up their past history with a subtle knowing glance up and down her body, which to her chagrin still made her twitch in wanton desire, but she managed to remain outwardly calm in spite of her inner turmoil. This was _not_ the time to display a lack of control, not when she was that close to getting what she wanted.

"Agents David, McGee, DiNozzo, please wait in my office." After furtive looks at each other, Ziva and Tim started up the stairs. Tony was still ready to throw down the gauntlet and vacate the premises but he'd hold off for a while. See what the Director had up her sneaky sleeve. It couldn't be any worse than his dealings with Gibbs, and Marcus' well- being was at stake. Picking up his badge and with a last belligerent look at Gibbs, Tony rounded his desk and took the stairs two at a time to the Director's office.

"Should I put you on report in this open arena with listening ears, Gibbs, for not following a direct order or will you come to my office?"

"Aw, hell! Lead the way," and he walked up behind the Director, and although he followed her lead she knew he had not admitted defeat.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The three junior agents sat in unsettled silence in the Director's outer office. Though silence was probably an inappropriate word for the atmosphere in the room; the vengeful look and dark glare aimed at Tony by the other two spoke volumes loud and clear.

"This is your fault, DiNozzo!" Tim finally spoke just to blame somebody. He knew his part in this travesty could have been avoided if he'd kept his mouth shut or presented the information in a different way, or even let DiNozzo explain the case instead of wildly blurting out accusations. But he had been so incensed at Tony for calling him fat and challenging him to a boxing match in the gym so he could pulverize him that he had overreacted, he knew that, and maybe there was something here that he hadn't bothered to find out first before making such an utter fool of himself.

Tony just gave a nonchalant shrug and responded halfheartedly. "Reaaally, McBlubbermouth?" Which for some reason, made McGee feel even smaller.

Ziva on the other hand silently applauded what had happened. This instigator of trouble...no, _trouble maker, _was the right expression, on her...on Gibbs' team would finally get what was coming to him. Kicked off the team for a start was her first vindictive thought or better yet, thrown out of NCIS altogether. In Mossad, DiNozzo would be shot or at least jailed for life doing hard labor for speaking the way he had to Gibbs and disobeying a direct order.

And he deserved it. She smiled, satisfied and justified, at Tony when he glanced her way and he startled that smirk off her face when he grinned back amiably. Confused as always at Tony's seeming lack of worry at Gibbs' wrath and the Director's anger, Ziva obsessed inwardly, what was she not seeing? Because by this time, the man should have been cowed into submission and she was highly annoyed that he wasn't.

Tony stared calmly out the office window but his thoughts were far away and bitter. His plan to skate along in this job as a prelim to the job he really wanted with the FBI was a bust. He couldn't stomach another day with this group in this hellhole. He had grown to hate some of the people at Baltimore PD passionately; those who had helped in taking a young boy's life, and he didn't want to hate like that again. But having come to the point of despising NCIS and everyone on this team it was time to move on. The cunning and deceitful Jenny Shepard, Gibbs the second B for bastard, Ziva the aggressive bad- tempered shrew and McGee the sniveling follow the leader weakling were not worth sticking around for. What was funny was he was no better; yeah, he was a loser on a team of losers.

He didn't care what other people thought or said about him, or what the rest of the employees in the building said about the team he was on. He'd tried stifling his howls of laughter in the men's bathroom when he'd first arrived and heard what the disgruntled agents and clerical staff had harshly nicknamed MCRT. '_Major Cretins, Retards and Turds_._'_

The rest of that day he tried being discrete as he burst out in chuckles at odd moments and hid his guffaws behind a cough whenever he looked at, as one employee described them, the '_gruff, glaring and growling lead agent Gibbs and the highhanded and bossy, persnickety foreign liaison officer, spy, and cold blooded killer, Ziva David', _prowling around. McGee was described as _'just the guy_ _hiding behind his computer.'_

But it wasn't funny anymore. He could no longer work with a man like Gibbs whose only way was his way or thrown off an overpass onto the highway, or the other empty heads that made up his team. Not when a boy's welfare was at stake. He'd do what he could to help Marcus but he faced the harsh reality. Keeping Marc safe, finding the guilty party and defying a team and its determined leader on his own would not be easy. But it wasn't the first time he had had to cover his own six, he could do it again and once he had accomplished his mission, he'd be a distant memory leaving nothing behind.

The outer door finally opened and Shepard then Gibbs entered, neither one spoke to the other. "Hold my calls, Cynthia. Agents, would you step this way." And she led the group into her office where each person found a seat.

"That was quite a performance your team put on in the bullpen, Gibbs." Shepard started the ball rolling but her thoughts were more on Gibbs' volatile reaction down in the bullpen. _Never saw him as out of control before. Good. Keeping Gibbs off balance makes my life a lot easier. _

Gibbs wished he _could _read the thoughts going on in that red head of hers. _I can smell the cogs burning, Jen; that can't be good. What are you up to now, calculating the pros and cons, see which way to hit me and my team next?_

"Would someone like to explain to me what is going on?"

"Not particularly, Jen. My team, my rules." As usual, Gibbs had uttered few words to excuse his bad behavior and no apology in sight.

"It's Director Shepard, Lead Agent Gibbs. And let me rephrase that. What Is Going On?!"

_"Director_ Shepard." Gibbs replied mockingly. "I want DiNozzo fired for insubordination and overall poor work performance. Whoever you owed a debt to in hiring him on, you got the short end of the stick. Fire him or put him on someone else's team or you'll not appreciate the consequences."

Gibbs watched her face suffuse with color, again, as he insulted her and demeaned her position in front of the junior agents, and then threatened her.

Shepard stiffened in her chair and stated coldly, "How dare you, Agent Gibbs!"

Gibbs realized he had probably just stepped over the line between boss and subordinate in what he had just said and blew out a frustrated breath. He had just done to her what DiNozzo had done to him earlier in the bullpen. Maybe they both needed to be fired. Gibbs thrust his chair back forcefully just barely stopping himself from kicking it across the room. Now was not the time to lose his well-known temper or to give the Director more ammunition.

"Look, we're wasting time here, Jen...Director Shepard. DiNozzo's sitting on information on a cold case and there's a new suspect to question..."

"HE'S _NOT_ A SUSPECT, YOU...!" Tony stopped and took a deep breath though he continued eyeing Gibbs angrily. "He is _not_ a suspect, Gibbs, but I'm done wasting my breath trying to explain that to the likes of you_._"

Tony figured the Director's dignity may have been insulted by Gibbs' rudeness but he wasn't intimidated or insulted by this ex-marine show of macho crap. On the contrary, he had nothing to lose so he gave as good as he got.

"Oh yeah, and by the way, that part about poor work performance, that's great coming from you Gibbs. Talk about incompetence. Where'd you learn your leadership skills anyway the Zoological Training School For Apes And Gorillas? That where you learned your communication skills, how to pound your chest and roar while grunting instructions to some poor jarhead on what latrine to clean next? You're a big freaking joke so get over yourself man 'cause as soon as we wrap up this case, you can _kiss my ass goodbye! _I am _out of here!_ You'll have my two weeks notice of resignation later today, Director."

"Don't let the door hit you on _said_ ass on the way out, DiNozzo."

"That's it? That's all the comeback you've got, Gibbs? Figured you'd...!"

"AGENT GIBBS! DINOZZO! PLEASE!" Jenny finally lost her composure and yelled, loudly, at the two investigators to shut them both up.

Gibbs though was more than a little surprised at DiNozzo's boldness, like a kick in the balls bold. Refreshing. Finally, something he saw in this guy that wasn't all stupid grins and stupider jokes. DiNozzo hadn't hidden the fact that he had no respect for Gibbs and had not been overawed by NCIS either. The man had never spoken his dissatisfaction out loud but Gibbs' gut knew that Tony had no liking for him, or the agency in spite of the face of a clown he portrayed. This was the first time he had outwardly shown at least some spark of backbone that fear of Gibbs hadn't been able to eradicate, unlike McGee and some of the other mice running around in this building looking for cheese and calling themselves agents.

Director Shepard in the meantime leaned back in her chair, her red cheeks as fiery as her red hair and waited as an uncomfortable silence descended. She'd get back at Jethro for his challenging remarks he could count on that but now...

"Alright. Now that I have your attention, Agents, let's try and focus, shall we? What has gotten everyone acting like two year olds about this case?"

DiNozzo agreed in his head that he _had_ lost focus. His ego battle with Gibbs' infamous superego wasn't winnable. The man would never back down no matter how wrong he was. Tony was dismayed at himself and at the time they had lost in senseless arguing and name calling, and sternly redirected his thinking towards what was really important. Marcus. Marcus, and the creepy guy with snaggy teeth and eyebrows that could fly.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Ziva snorted inelegantly at the description when DiNozzo was finally able to tell the group what he had learned from Mr Arroyo. "Snaggy teeth, flying eyebrows? Come along, Tony. That sounds like it came from a five year old child. Surely, you are not naive enough to take this seriously? And who saw this person, anyway? Where is he?"

Tony's habit of ignoring her was finally becoming painfully clear to Ziva herself. It seemed biting sarcasm and criticism of his faults unmoved him. Had the man no pride?

Tony wasn't not aware of her, just chose to filter her out. And in spite of how close she had come to describing his child witness, anything else she said was a no brainer, he outshone her in investigative work, she knew it and she was jealous.

"We've got an excellent data base and that description is more than unusual. If he is in the system we'll find him. A sketch artist can do her magic and I can take the picture to the witness for identification."

"Good job, Agent DiNozzo." _Now that wasn't so hard,_ the Director beamed satisfactorily. "Follow up on that..."

Secretly disgusted with the Director, Ziva interrupted Shepard's simpering and fawning before Gibbs could. "Who is this witness, and why was he not heard of before?" Ziva was a pit bull with a meaty arm bone and was not one used to being ignored, and she had good instincts when someone was holding something back from her.

"What are you not telling us, Tony? How is it we do not get a chance to interrogate this witness of yours? Where did he come from? Who is he? Or, ah, it is a she, is it not? She must be some beauty queen you are coveting a date with, no?" Ziva sounded slightly unsettled. Was he pulling some kind of woolen blanket over their eyes, holding back information so he could jockey into a better position in the agency?

Tony bestowed his infuriatingly smug grin on her. "No, it's not a beauty queen, Ziva. Why, are you jealous?" He taunted and mocked before turning away, which made Ziva want to smack his face off then gut him with her carving knives for his insolence to even suggest that she felt that way about him.

Director Shepard held up her hand before Ziva could hurl an angry response or a sharpened knife to DiNozzo's head.

McGee recognized Ziva's fuming look and spitefully thought DiNozzo deserved whatever pain Ziva doled out. He had remained silent so far since his initial outburst in the bullpen and tried to hold his tongue now, better for him if he did. But Ziva was for some reason already furious at him, so...and DiNozzo had a bone to pick with him, too. Might as well include Gibbs' perpetual attitude of poorly disguised contempt for him, so who was left, who else was there to annoy? Plus, his mouth seemed to have developed a will of its own.

"It's a he and he's thirteen!" McGee blurted. He expected the glares, no surprise there, it felt familiar, homey. Tim's father had told him the only attribute worth mentioning in Tim's character was his stubbornness, and not in a good way. Tim's genius, his love of computers and all things electronic were worthless qualities to the Admiral who could not force his son to follow him and _his_ father into the Navy.

So Tim would be stubborn and disliked, more familiarity; and in _spite of_ the animosity directed at him by his teammates, _would_ persevere otherwise they'd never get anything done on this case if they all kept taking turns clashing and banging each other's horns, snarling and growling like rams in heat.

Predictably, Ziva sent Tim a withering look for speaking out of turn as though this was all his fault.

"Thirteen?! You are goating me, Tim, yes? That means he would have been five years old eight years ago. Surely we are not expected to...this is insane! I demand that we..."

"OFFICER DAVID!" Shepard's voice was becoming hoarse from yelling and she wondered if she had a discarded mentholated cough drop in her drawer; what was with these damn people? But her yell pulled the Liaison officer back to her senses and as usual she put the blame where it ought to be, off of her.

"Excuse my outburst, Jenny. As you know, incompetence would not be tolerated in Mossad and any dead weight would be immediately culled from the team. I responded to those high expectations and the obvious lack of them in this situation."

Ziva sat back in her seat now composed and vindicated. She had gotten her point across to the Director how she felt about the excess baggage DiNozzo, and a subtle message to Gibbs that her position in this agency was strong, perhaps stronger than his.

Gibbs wasn't paying attention to her boasting. He'd finally taken note so it sunk in of what Tim had just said and Ziva had made fun of and his temper flared again. No one in this room knew about his wife and child except Shepard, or how the knowledge of a child in danger would affect him. _A child was involved, his daughter's age had she lived? _Rage, as though hearing the news of their deaths for the first time struck him again. Damming, overpowering rage! DiNozzo should have told him!

_NCIS NCIS NCIS_


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848.

Warning: Same as chapter one

CHAPTER THREE

IN THE FELL CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE

Previously on NCIS

"You have a thirteen year old witness to this homicide and you're only just now telling us about it?!"

Tony was shocked mute but not for long. "Why you...are you nuts or just dimwitted?! I've been trying to tell you that...wasting my time...but you had your head stuck so far up your...and you would have sent a ruthless assassin to pick him up...you're a damn fool if you..."

"YOU SHOULD HAVE TRIED HARDER!" Gibbs rudely interrupted. He had moved up toe to toe with Tony who didn't back down an inch and McGee thought physical blows would be next. Tim watched as Ziva sat back to enjoy the show and the Director reached for her phone.

What was Tim going to do? Today was the day of more surprises for him as he reached deep past the fear and pulled up another kernel of inner strength he didn't know was there. He forced his way into the huddle and for some reason faced DiNozzo instead of the lead investigator and felt Gibbs' breath on the back of his neck, and two laser beams boring into the back of his skull.

"WAIT! Just wait!" Tim repeated the words to Tony's hostile face, words the older man had spoken earlier and no one had listened. And saw the wild angry look slowly fade from the agent's eyes.

"Gibbs, that's w-w-what he's been trying to tell you since we got back. You just wouldn't listen." His words were directed to Gibbs but spoken directly into DiNozzo's face, acknowledging that he had also not listened.

Gibbs heard the censor in the younger man's quavering voice and moved back a step, then another, and wondered what _had_ he been thinking, what else was he missing? No wonder DiNozzo was so...worried? Yes, his gut was telling him, DiNozzo had been desperately worried and fighting hard for something. A thirteen year old boy that he, Gibbs, had given orders to drag into NCIS like a criminal? And DiNozzo was right, sending Ziva, no less, a trained assassin who probably would have traumatized the little guy, handcuffed him, separated him from his parent and treated that parent like dirt on the bottom of her boot.

Had he taken leave of his senses? Had the miserable state of the agency and his disappointment in it cancelled out the reason he had joined NCIS in the first place? Shepard had basically hogtied him from the throne she sat on in the Director's office, effectively stymying him as to who was on his team, nor had he been given the power to hire or fire _anyone. _His being here was a cliche, idioms correctly used; he had no foot to stand on, his hands were effectively tied and he was over the proverbial barrel.

Ever since Morrow had left and Jenny Shepard took his seat, the agency had gone to hell. Mexico, Mike's cabana and Mariachi's were always in the forefront of his mind as an escape route. But something held him, something that was not known in the Agency.

Morrow had succumbed to Shepard's vile threats and took early retirement because Bob Morrow was a decent man and that information that she held over his head would further hurt innocent people. Morrow was also Gibbs' good friend and no one hurt his friends or his family without retribution coming to their door. THAT was why he was still here instead of flying third class to his rooms above the kitchen in Mike Franks' house in Mexico. To right a wrong.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Gibbs backed away from the two agents, found his seat and sat down. DiNozzo still stood in front of Tim, eyes cold and body still vibrating with fury. He didn't follow after Gibbs but his eyes tracked the man back to his chair, and his fists were still clenched and ready to swing at the least provocation.

"Aah...could you save h-h-hitting me and breaking my nose for the gym, Tony? You know, like you told me?" McGee said, cautiously eyeing DiNozzo's still balled up fists.

The words penetrated and in spite of everything, tickled Tony's funny bone and he couldn't help cracking a quick sardonic grin at McGee before he too moved away to the window where he stared out at the busy navy yard. Tim breathed out a sigh of relief in that suddenly claustrophobic, stuffy room.

Ziva had sat on the edge of her chair with that disturbing, partly excited look of anticipation that morphed into one of disappointment when the fracas appeared to be over. Since DiNozzo had already tendered his resignation, all that was left was the singing fat lady exiting and the elephant in the room eating the cake and the icing too before they all left the building.

The only one in the room who seemed content and at ease was Jenny Shepard who had plans to keep these four people together as a team but apart, alienated from one another and NCIS. Alone. And it was working. They had each gone to their separate corners to lick their wounds and have their private thoughts.

There was no communication, no familiarity, no eye contact amongst the group. They were together in the same room like a trainload of busy commuters who held onto the strap or the pole, each one to his own tiny space, not touching unless forced to by the rickety movement of the train on tracks. They had no ties to each other and 'on your six' and 'Semper fi' were just bywords of a TV show or expressions found on the Internet, meaningless and forgettable. That was _her_ master plan proceeding successfully towards its successful end.

The buzz of the intercom interrupted this uneasy tableau. The Director answered her phone impatiently, _"I thought I told you to hold my calls, Cynthia." _ After listening for a moment, she said resignedly, _"Very well, please give me a minute then put him through." _She hung up the phone then turned to the team in apparent conviviality as though she hadn't just been screaming at them minutes before.

"I need to take this phone call, Agent Gibbs, but I'm glad we've got this settled. However, if you or your team members feel unable to work this case, I will assign it to Balboa's team and we can discuss the ramifications after the case has been resolved."

The threat was pleasantly delivered. When there was no response she gave them further orders.

"Now, since this has been a cold case for eight years, I doubt another day will matter. Go home, get some rest and start fresh in the morning. And Agent Gibbs, I know your propensity to plow ahead regardless, so I will make this a direct order. Agent DiNozzo will be the only one to correspond with the boy in this investigation. It's hands off to the rest of you. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Jenny." Ziva rose gracefully, minor problem solved as far as she was concerned.

"Yes, Director Shepard." McGee followed suit, rising ponderously from his seat like a vigorless old man.

"Gibbs?" _Was he going to cooperate or not? _Jenny thought, irritated. _Just go with the program, Jethro, for God's sake!_ Her mighty frown showed she was running out of patience with him.

"I hear ya'." Gibbs doggedly conceded the point though he was thinking something altogether different. _'I also hear ya' butting in where you're not wanted making an ass of yourself giving me and my team orders. You and I are gonna have a talk Jenny to set matter's straight on some things.' _ That was a promise Gibbs meant to keep but he rose to lead the procession out without saying another word.

A grateful glance from Tony, still standing by the window solidified, at least in Shepard's mind, the debt he now owed her. Shepard then picked up her phone, dismissing this group of agents that made her want to pull her hair out whenever she had to deal with them. But...they were alienated strangers to each other, silent acquaintances, fragmented, partner free. She picked them because of their individual angst; hubris in some, depression, low self- esteem and downtrodden in others. Soon...she'd set her plan in motion using MCRT toward the end she so coveted.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Back in the bullpen Tony got on the phone to reschedule his appointment with Arroyo and Marc for the next day. He felt a weird sense of urgency but there was nothing more he could do tonight. He thought resentfully of the time wasted in futile arguments with the self-important egomaniac Gibbs that had almost come to blows. Time he could have spent on getting the evidence he had collected processed and finding the guy with the eyebrows that Marc still remembered after all these years.

Tony finished his call and looked around at the empty bullpen. It seems his co-workers had taken advantage of the Director's order to leave and had jumped bail, even Gibbs was nowhere to be seen. But Tony felt too uneasy to go home. Maybe there was still something he could do. Maybe Abby could start the program to configure a facial composite of their suspect from the information Marcus gave him. He didn't look forward to having to deal with Gibbs' self-centered Abby Sciuto but he would make the sacrifice.

So now Tony was down in the lab clandestinely after hours because he was apparently wasting his breath trying to get the ill-tempered lab dragon to cooperate. He'd brought the evidence he had collected earlier to her and told her they needed it ASAP. The look she gave him was downright malevolent. But one evil Goth wasn't going to slow him down.

While she made a show of calling Gibbs and giving him an earful of complaints about Tony and said it would take two days to work on the new evidence since it wasn't an active case, Tony grabbed the signed receipts that said he had delivered the evidence and slipped out. He decided that he had really grown to dislike that woman.

So he waited in his car in the parking lot until she finally left. Having to improvise had never been a deterrent to him so he went down to the lab and used the equipment that Abby made seem like you needed to be a rocket scientist to figure it out. He could get some basic information even though it would just take him twice the time to do it. And if or when Abby found out, what could she do but run to Daddy Gibbs again and whine and complain; he'd make sure it wouldn't be the last time either just to aggravate her highness. Marcus was more important than her fits and tantrums. And besides, he'd be in and out before she even got to work in the morning.

That's why he sat half the night away in a chair not suitable for sleeping while the machine clanked and groaned in irritation probably because he wasn't talking baby-talk stupidity to an inanimate object. And Bingo! There he was; dark hairy eyebrows that met in the middle and looked like a bird's wings, and deciduous tiny crocodile teeth.

He put the composite into the data base and its facial recognition magic flew by picture after picture and there he was. Eddie Thomas, petty thief, forgery, larceny, burglary, fraud, possession of a controlled substance. Surprisingly, the records indicated the man disappeared off the face of the earth eight years ago, right after Marcus said he was the person in his house when his mother was killed in a supposed home robbery. The guy was off the radar, no sightings, no arrest record, just disappeared.

Was there more to the Petty Officer's death? What were these guys looking for in that house other than a couple pieces of modest jewelry and three hundred dollars in cash? Gibbs had told DiNozzo last night after the fiasco of a meeting in Director Shepard's office that it was 'his lead, his case'. Tony wasn't stupid. He surmised that pretty much meant that he'd be basically working it alone with nil help from his teammates. Fine! He'd worked alone before, he could do it again.

It was six o'clock in the morning just as the machine zinged its completion and Tony jumped up from the quick catnap to print out the results when another zing and swoosh of doors opening alerted him that someone had entered the lab. Wouldn't you know, the paleface pigtail brigade would arrive early to work. He scrambled to get the printouts because who knew how the crazy would react to someone, especially Tony, invading her dungeon. Loud, armor piercing screeching gave him the answer pretty quick.

_"_**What do you think you're doing in here?"**Abby Sciuto yelled at him, having shown up way too early. She stood facing him with hands on hips and tapping toe that fell short of intimidating as her mode of dress made Tony want to cavort rather than cringe. Pigtails, school-girlish blouse, short, short skirt, long socks and patent leather footsies was one of his more imaginative sexual fantasies that he certainly did not want to have about **her.**

It was time to go on the offensive. "**Your** job, Ms Sciuto, that's what I'm doing since you appear incapable of doing it. You're stalling on a case involving a thirteen year old boy. What does that say about you? And you might consider asking the Director for a lab assistant to help you out if you're so bogged down, I mean, come on. If little ole me can work these machines and get results, surely you should be able to find someone..."

Tony prattled on not letting her get a word in edgewise while he got his paperwork and she flustered in place. And just to add injury to the mix, he waved the criminal Eddie Thomas' picture printout in her face to prove what he had accomplished as he quickly made his way toward the glass doors and his precipitous escape. As the doors swished closed Abby found her voice and she shrieked threats after him.

"Don't think you've gotten away with anything, DiNozzo, and how dare you say I'm putting a child at risk. I came in early to start the search for your information and just so you know, Gibbs will hear about this and I will be writing a complaint to Director Shepard about your unauthorized use of my babies as well, you can count on..."

The elevator doors closed on the rest of her diatribe and a good thing too, she had him quaking in his E. Zegna boots. Not really; did he look like the poor pathetic McProbie whom she forced to take a vicious dog into his apartment-a dog that had nearly ripped his throat out, which he managed to keep for two days before he almost croaked of a panic attack and heart failure? Or how about the guy she made walk around with jangling bells around his neck perfectly imitating a docile mooing bovine? Yeah, that was a kick in the head, and she's tried controlling every other male she comes in contact with her Gothy potions and mesmerizing spells. It seemed to him that even Gibbs was under one of her spells, the one where she blinks her teary, little girl eyes and no matter the wrong she's done, he becomes her protector against all the big bad bogey people.

Not him! Any time she tried something like that anywhere near Tony, he just reminded himself of Ellen Berent's femme fatale in the film noir Leave Her to Heaven.

That crazy dame stared longingly and incestuously at some poor pathetic sap who just happened to look like her father and who sat across from her on a train. She stared so hard with her barely lucid, piercing blue eyes, that she had him squirming and uncomfortable, antsy and ill at ease. The poor fool read those warning signs wrong for the road to sanity and detoured off the tracks into madness by marrying her.

After she'd accomplished that and had the man glued to her side, she'd off any man she came in contact with including her brother-in-law and unborn baby boy if they tried to steal his affections from _her_ only. That's how he pictured Abby Sciuto, in the worst light, so if he ever made the mistake of trusting her, he'd think of that crazy, jealous, female whack-job in the movie, then once armored with that protective thought, come down to process his evidence, gather his results, and leave still intact, still his own man.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony rode the elevator to the gym floor, got some clean clothes from his locker, took a quick shower and got dressed, grabbed coffee from the break room and a stale, left over donut and got to his desk before anyone else from the team had arrived, and started doing more research on this mysterious guy Eddie Thomas.

He knew when first David then McGee showed up for work but chose to ignore them and continued searching his computer for a clue. Where had this guy vanished to? Gibbs had come in right after DiNozzo, disappeared then come back with his trademark cup of coffee. When Gibbs spoke from his desk it took Tony a minute to realize the man was talking to him.

"How far have you gotten with your composite, DiNozzo?"

"...Excuse me?" Tony was honestly dumbfounded. The man was _talking_ to him, not bellowing?

Gibbs had called Mike Franks the night before after consuming a portion of bourbon in a stained sawdusty cup and was feeling nostalgic. Gibbs had complained to Franks for ten minutes about his lousy team and Shepard's crappy directorship then he had to listen to Franks' grizzly rumblings and the brutal insults he'd hurled at him.

_"Well what'd ya expect, Probie? When you're there, you're only half there, the rest of the time your brain's in sleep mode dreaming about them exes of yours or should I say nightmare mode. And those beautiful girls of yours. No one can tell you when to let them go, Jethro. I'm just saying...you ain't got no team worth spit 'cause you ain't no team leader worth the spittoon to spit in._

_"They're worthless cause you're a worthless leader so quit whinin' and complainin' and get your team straight, and your act together and take down that conniving female tarantula director, man, before she devours whatever else parts you still got that makes you a man."_

"Are you done, Mike?" Why had he thought calling his old boss would be a good idea?

_"No, I ain't done! Don't bother coming down here just to mope around and start building rooms onto my cabana, I got too many rooms to keep clean as it is. And that loser team you got, why don't you try to cultivate some normal human speech patterns and communicate with them, speech wise that is, rather than just giving them your evil-eyed death stare and grunting, and no, head slaps won't work. That DiNozzo guy would probably hand your hand back to you one finger at a time. And the pretty lil' lady Ziva, hahaha ha. She'd skip the hand altogether and start hacking further south on your der ri errr ..."_ And though Mike had cackled evilly at his own warped humor, Gibbs found nothing funny to laugh at and hung up disgruntled and pissed-off while the man was still pouring out raucous sounds of his merriment.

So Gibbs had come to the slightly inebriated conclusion that no human being could actually read minds, especially not his, and he was thus now cultivating patience and human everyday speech patterns, and the results; his team now stared stupidly at him as though he'd grown a medusa head and gray dreadlocks.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"What?" DiNozzo was still shocked dumb.

"Oh for the love of...Are ya deaf, DiNozzo? Abby said you visited her lab last night. Did you get any results from your search?"

Tony waited for the angry rebuke, the reprimand and more threats for offending Gibbs' best girl, then sighed in relief when none was forthcoming. He'd wasted enough time and promised himself _not_ to lose focus and get embroiled in any more physicalities with this hard-nosed dinosaur whose old ways could teach him nothing and went nowhere.

Since Gibbs didn't redress the earful he must have gotten from Abby, Tony moved forward relating what he had been able to discover about Eddie Thomas and that the man was mysteriously missing.

"I'll need to show Marcus this picture. He'll be home from school at 3:30."

"He was five years old, Gibbs. Does Tony expect him to remember _anything, _much less a man's face?" Ziva expressed this idea in seeming amusement, though the emotion never reached her eyes.

"Again, I question the validity of pursuing such nonsense as this. It is irresponsible and in my opinion, we would best be suited moving on to a different cold case." Her attitude suggested any further discussion should be over and done with.

Gibbs was under the impression that this was a free country so he granted that Ziva had the right to have an attitude, express her opinion, or question his leadership style anyway she saw fit, provided, of course, that her attitudes, questions and opinions stayed within the confines of her own mind and not anywhere in the vicinity of where he could hear them or know anything about them.

He wasn't impressed by her haughty tone and couldn't imagine how things had gotten so turned around on this team during his watch. Mike Franks was right; he was doing a pretty lousy job of leading the troop. Especially since this wasn't a joint endeavor and he wasn't a co-leader type of guy. It was _his_ job, no one else's, certainly not Ziva David's; any failure that befell the team, the blame would land on his shoulders, as it should.

So he started off by explaining forcibly to David and McGee too, for that matter, _his _opinion.

"Look, David, this is how things are gonna be on this particular case. It's simple; DiNozzo's the lead. He will be the lead till I say otherwise. Follow his lead or be assigned to another team! Clear?"

"Uh, yeah, Gibbs." McGee mumbled though not lifting his eyes from a file he was reading on his desk.

Ziva's answer was slower in coming. She leaned back in her chair calculating her response before she said coolly. "Of course, Gibbs, if you feel that it is necessary to threaten us with losing our jobs just to give Tony the lead then I realize how serious of a matter this is to you. I was just trying to point out that we have nothing to go on even if the boy can identify the sketch..."

"Gotcha, there is no..." McGee blurted out suddenly, then jumped up and waving the file folder in hand scurried over to Tony's desk. He was in such a state that he didn't seem to care that he had interrupted Ziva's self-important soliloquy mid-sentence, or the venomous look she threw at him.

"I _was_ right!" He crowed triumphantly. "I've re-read all the reports, the lab results, everything! That blood drop doesn't match Claire or Sam Arroyo, so unless he was adopted, the blood didn't belong to Marc either."

McGee suddenly realized the implications. "You _did _lie to Arroyo, Tony, there was no proof that Marc was there. But you knew...you knew there was a witness. How _did_ you know?" Tim's inquisitive mind was seeking an answer and he sounded more curious than accusing.

"Mind filling us in, DiNozzo?" Gibbs' voice was matter-of-fact, oddly different from his usual scathing norm, but at least not confrontational.

They waited for the suddenly quiet man to speak. There was no big secret as far as DiNozzo was concerned. He had read the report like countless others but the clue had jumped out at him; a clue simple enough that no one else had seen but effective enough to prove that someone else had been there. Would they take it as bragging or a fluke? Aw, to hell with it. Why should he be worried about that? He was done with the whining and complaining about these people, they weren't going to change in a million years and he wasn't sticking around that long to be there if they ever did.

He wasn't looking for their approval, and granted, _job well done!, _in praise for finding a clue that sat for eight years staring everyone else in the face would be a boost to his ego, whose wouldn't? But praise from Gibbs, yeah, and the moon was cheese full of holes, so fortunately for him, he didn't need Gibbs' praise. DiNozzo wanted nothing from Gibbs, unless it was to help Marc. That's _all_ he needed. So, he'd explain, let them take it as they would.

DiNozzo took a sip from his cold coffee to clear his suddenly dry throat; ironically, the old adage, 'talk is cheap', came to mind, and it basically meant 'put your money where your mouth is. He can scoff at the jibes and jeers but they were unpleasant no matter how vehemently he denied it, and they did affect him. 'Sticks and stones' was true but 'words can never harm' was a load of crap. Straightening his shoulders, he prepared to be mocked even though the clue he had found was valid.

"I like peanut butter and jelly occasionally; milk, once in a while. But I don't like peanut butter and honey and I like my chocolate milk hot not cold; preferably in a mocha macchiato." He looked up expectantly at the blank faces, would they figure it out? McGee hurriedly sorted through the notes again.

"Okay, it says she was home, called in sick from work. There was food on the counter and knocked on the floor. Agent Trotter mentions the honey pot, white bread, turned over carton of soy milk, plastic container of chocolate syrup, so what? Time of death was estimated at around noon, she was making her lunch when they came in, what...?"

McGee was tying himself up in knots that something was eluding him, though he was trying his hardest to see what DiNozzo had seen; and he was enervated and stimulated to find it.

"I don't like peanut butter and honey either, but a child might." Gibbs said, a painful memory resurfacing of his daughter Kelly's love of honey. "You're saying she was making _Marc's_ lunch when the intruders entered, DiNozzo? What are you basing it on?" Gibbs had a hunch where this was going and he felt a modicum of respect for the man's intuitiveness; not that he would express that to DiNozzo out loud.

"That's what I'm saying, Gibbs. That white bread had the crusts cut off. And I can see why no one would take note because it wasn't in any of the written reports but I looked at the pictures of the scene and there was that one picture of crust-less bread scattered on the floor.

"Now, come on! What adult does that for himself- cuts the crusts off? Arroyo wouldn't have admitted the truth with just some crust-less white bread for evidence that his kid was there, and McGee was right, there was no sample of Marc's blood. I knew I had to come up with something more definitive so, yeah, I lied to the man, McGee. When I said we had tested blood drops found at the scene and they were Marc's, Mr Arroyo then confessed that it was Marc who was home sick with a cold. Mrs Arroyo just took a sick day and her job just assumed she was the one sick. So he lied to the authorities and kept Marc away from any questioning."

"So you _were_ just guessing? A fool's guess is how it is said, yes?" Any emotion other than curiosity was expertly hidden in Ziva's voice.

Shrugging cooling, Tony failed to answer her and let her interpret it any way she wanted to.

Gibbs, though, changed his mind about admitting something out loud.

"More than a guess, DiNozzo, and a damn good one!" Gibbs admitted because, granted, he was a stubborn old bastard, but he still knew good when he saw it, and in this case, that was good. And there was no need for the other three agents to turn and stare, even just briefly, at him, as though _he _had lost his wits because he gave a few words of commendation where it was due!

"Uh, thanks?"

"Don't let it go to your head, DiNo..."

"Wait, wait." Tim was on a roll interrupting people right and left, totally involved in getting to the bottom of something that peaked his interest. What Gibbs saw was a side of McGee he hadn't seen since the third week he had been employed at NCIS when everything young and spirited about the man had been gradually gouged out by the sharp knife of Ziva's careless cruelty, Gibbs' cutting, break-the-spirit reprimands and putdowns, and Abby, who had gotten a hold of him with her tainted sweet tongue and pointy, 'love you like puppies,' promises. When Gibbs had more time, he would think about this, and his part in a young man reduced to hiding and cowering. But now was not the time as he listened to McGee.

"Marc said just before they came in, he had been using his child scissors to cut a paper heart for his mother for Valentine's Day and he ran upstairs, and the perp found him. That's why you wanted to go upstairs, because..."

"On the off chance that Marc brought the scissors with him, I wanted to see the closet." Tony confirmed. "Marc said he jabbed at the guy with the eyebrows who hollered from the pain. Sounded like Marc may have drawn blood, so I needed to get into that closet."

"You find anything?" Gibbs had gotten up from his chair and now stood in front of Tony's desk also.

"Found the scissors and an item of clothing with what appears to be blood stains. Arroyo was right. I don't think the maid ever entered that room to clean it. I got the items to Abby and I _believe _she is working on the evidence now. We need to find this Eddie Thomas whether he's the same man who Marc cut or not. If Marc can identify him, we at least know that he was at the scene when the murder occurred."

Gibbs was feeling the thrill of the hunt again after it being so sorely absent. It felt good. "This is your case," he told DiNozzo. "What's your next step?"

Tony tried not to look at Gibbs cross-eyed and suspicious, but he was floored at the man's seeming cooperation. He answered Gibbs' question guardedly, expecting the man to turn back into a pumpkin or a pod.

"I've got a 3:30 appointment with Marc, Gibbs. I thought McGee could try and find this guy Thomas, I've taken it about as far as I can?" And Tony dumped what he had on McGee's desk. "Do your magic, Tim."

McGee gave the retreating DiNozzo's back a long-suffering look but got to work willingly enough once he felt Gibbs' eye on him and Ziva's disapproving angry gaze. Why her gaze was directed at him was a mystery; was he supposed to defy a direct order? Say he wasn't going to do it because _Ziva_ didn't want him to? And why didn't she want him to? Besides, what Tony had done, that was a great piece of investigative work he had come up with and Tim was impressed by it. Gibbs had certainly shown interest in Tony's thinking process that pulled a clue out of thin air, why wasn't David?

Ziva sat quietly but Tim recognized that she was on edge by the constant movement of her slim fingers on the twisted paper clip. Gibbs had put her firmly in her place and that was a first, something Tim observed with sneaky gleeful delight. Normally, Gibbs issued orders then seemed to forget about the team and his orders, as long as the work got done.

Gibbs issued orders. Ziva changed his orders, that was the status quo. She directed them at the crime scene as she saw fit and from the first, Tim had just assumed that Gibbs was the figurehead and Ziva wielded the real power. Ziva always gave the impression that she was firmly entrenched in her position as Gibbs' second and Gibbs had never said anything to disavow this; until Tony DiNozzo arrived and thumbed his nose at Ziva and her pushy demands and counter orders.

While he entered data into the computer, Tim had time to think about his relationship with Ziva David. He suddenly realized he didn't like it. He had allowed Ziva to take advantage of his weaknesses; his propensity to give away his will and hand over authority to strong woman. It was as though she had prior knowledge of him being raised by dominant women like his mother and grandmother, and an absent father.

Even his younger sister could rule the roost over him. Had Ziva profiled him and now had a dossier with all his weaknesses gloriously displayed? Had the former Mossad officer used that agency's vast stored information to figure out what buttons to push elevator-like, ten here, five there, subbasement next, to make him move at her direction?

He sat behind his desk and let the programs run unattended while he thought really hard about his future.

It rankled that if Ziva wasn't in charge, then as a new employee to the team, he hadn't had to jump through her hoops and ask how high at her every command. He should have known better when Tony was hired and scoffed at every bossy word that came out of the woman's mouth. DiNozzo had tried to warn him, to clue him in about Ziva and her vivid, self-glorifying imagination, and he _had_ noted that if Gibbs didn't tell Tony to do something, he didn't do it and to hell with Officer David, but _he_ had snubbed DiNozzo's advice.

_Don't go tramping through those bushes McNovice there's probably poison ivy in there_. Take _some motion sickness pills, McThrow-up, you look like the type to barf at the sight of a boat._

DiNozzo had been serious, hadn't smirked until Tim had glanced inquiringly at Ziva, then he outright laughed. _Suit_ _yourself, McDoubtful. _So he had ignored the advice and he suffered a great deal of hurt as a result of the virulent allergic reaction to the poison ivy and severe dehydration from vomiting bouts the whole time they were on the Chimera; pain, discomfort, humiliation and belated hindsight, things that could have been avoided, had he just listened.

Later, he had asked Ziva why, why not take Tony's advice? She had replied indifferently. _'You are certainly free to listen to anyone you see fit, however, I do not trust Tony DiNozzo to have your best interest at heart. There was no way to know if there was poison oak or not and he would have sent you out of your way if you had skirted that trail thus I thought he was sending you on a wild water bird chase, and he was only guessing about your seasickness. We did not have time to stop at a drug store to get medicine for your possible stomach weakness._

And that was that from her standpoint. So, well needed advice from DiNozzo he had intentionally disregarded and listened instead to Ziva's skewed careless reasoning, causing him significant amounts of pain should have clued him in. Tim methodically examined his worthiness and positive attributes and found himself lacking as usual. He had made a mistake on who he had put his trust in, and was in the deadly grip of circumstances of his own making. Why _should_ Ziva be a friend to care about his health, Tony trust or confide in him, or Gibbs respect him? Friendship, trust and respect were earned.

Just then, the computer indicated its findings, which ended McGee's dire retrospection and pending depression, for the moment, as he exulted in something he _could_ do right: he had found Eddie Thomas.

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848

Warning: Same as chapter one

CHAPTER FOUR

UNDER THE BLUDGEONINGS OF CHANCE

Previously on NCIS

He had found Eddie Thomas.

Timothy McGee barely kept himself from whooping unprofessionally in delight. "I found him," he announced jumping back to his computer and typing frenziedly. The information he transferred to the plasma screen and everyone left their desk to stand in a row in front of the TV, even Ziva.

"What the...that can't be," Tony said in disbelief as he grabbed the remote off the desk and pointed it at the screen.

"It says here he's dead, died eight years ago in a fire. What's so hard to believe about that, DiNozzo? McGee was skeptical, coincidences did happen. Gibbs had his doubts also but wanted to hear Tony's thoughts.

"Use that so called big brain of yours, McGee. It says here the guy was in an apartment fire and was burned over 40% of his body. He died John Doe in the hospital that night. The thing is he wasn't identified as Eddie Thomas until the next day by some guy who said he was a close friend. He was burned beyond recognition. No dental x-rays were used in ID-ing the guy. He was cremated and the ashes were scattered.

"Again, your point, Agent DiNozzo?" Previously silent, Ziva's comment was low keyed, unlike her usual acerbic responses. _Probably still smarting from the icy whiplash of Gibbs' tongue, _thought McGee, as his eyes of understanding were slowly being opened. _Either that or she was just pouting for not getting her way. No, that can't be; Ziva didn't pout, she just got revenge._

"My point... who here does _not_ believe in coincidences, raise your hand?" And Tony raised his hand and waved it around. No one present would stoop to such juvenile, banal behavior and they each showed their contempt in various non-expressions, except for Tim's blatantly obvious, _just like I thought, you're a fool, _glare_._

"So, you believe he is still alive? Is that your issue?" This time, Ziva sounded mildly curious rather that snidely sarcastic.

"I don't know but think about it. This guy and another guy commit burglary and kill a woman for essentially peanuts then this guy mysteriously dies in a fire not too long after and is so disfigured that he can't be identified. Arroyo says his wife was acting scared before she died and she felt like she was being watched. So I'm thinking someone was in that house looking for something, possibly a classified something that she hid in the house and was killed before, well before she could reveal it."

Tony ad-libbed off the top of his head and waited for the derisive response, and was not disappointed when Ziva felt it necessary to point out his flawed reasoning's.

"Hmm...now the dead woman was a spy... and a thief?" Ziva pursed her lips delicately, thoughtfully, as though really giving that idea credence. But DiNozzo got ready for the vipers gibe.

"Really, Tony! Where are you getting this from? You are just pulling a rodent by the hairs out of a hat and as usual, your rancid imagination runs quickly away from reality." In her opinion this was just more of DiNozzo's clownish bid for validation to be on this team, or any team in NCIS for that matter.

Tony couldn't let the inanity of what she had just said go, it just wasn't in him. "You do realize that your use of idioms sucks, right, Officer David? It's really appalling what slithers out of your mouth. The expression is pulling a rabbit from a hat, not a rodent by its hair, or even a hare from a hat would have sounded better, and by the way, the only one who needs a reality check around here is you..."

...'**Whack'...'whack'...**The sound of hits came in rapid succession startling the mail clerk into dropping a bundle of letters, but more importantly, stunning the recipients into a moment of disbelieving silence.

Then. "Ow! What the...did you just hit me on the back of my head, Gibbs?" Tony bristled in annoyance, the adrenalin surge readying him for a fight, again.

"Yeah, I whacked you. I whacked Ziva, too. Did it get your attention?"

"Gibbs, really!" Ziva rubbed the back of her head unbelievingly. No one touched her in violence without having their hand handed back to them flayed and quartered and ready to flour and pan fry.

**"Are you two ready to focus?" **Gibbs growled, slamming his hand on the metal cabinet and apparently not intimidated by Mike Franks' description of Ziva's reputation of deadliness, or DiNozzo's physical strength.

Tony took a deep breath and stood down. Marcus was more important than this Gibbs clown or the other circus performer, Ziva David, but Gibbs had better not make a habit of physical violence on him because he was out of whack if he thought he could get away with knocking him around.

"Yeah, I'm ready to focus, Gibbs, just watch who you're hitting!"

"Please do not do that again, Gibbs!" Ziva said in an emotionless voice belying the underlying threat of harmful retribution.

Tim spoke up just then to relay a bit of information.

"It's rampant not rancid."

Three heads turned to glare as one.

"What!?"

"Aah," Tim hemmed, embarrassed at the attention. "Just now, Ziva said rancid imagination, which means...but I think she meant-Never mind." McGee groaned inwardly, destructive self-chastisement rearing its ugly head. When would he learn to keep his mouth shut?

Gibbs groaned internally also. Would it be considered cowardly, un-Marine like if he turned in his resignation now so he wouldn't have to see or deal with these people again? "You got something, McGee?"

As far as he was concerned, McGee didn't have anything worthwhile to report. "I've got _some_ information, waiting for the rest to, uh, I was able to look into her history, Gibbs. There were no sudden large deposits in her bank accounts that I could find. She worked in the business office at the Naval Station in Norfolk."

McGee continued to lay out what he had found; which was more than just_ some _information. But he had learned that being self-effacing was a sure way to avoid bringing unnecessary attention his way.

"Never went to sea and she seemed satisfied with that. She worked in payroll...a payroll clerk, very efficient at her job; her superiors were satisfied with her performance. She never attempted to further her college education and...Gibbs, there is nothing to indicate she was involved in anything clandestine, espionage or otherwise."

Ziva's exasperated response was not unexpected. "So! As I have said, it is more than obvious that she was a victim of circumstance and we are wasting our time trying to find something about her that is just _not there!"_

_Ziva is a mulish, pain in the ass, annoying donkey kong_, thought Tony. "And _I_ repeat," he retorted. "I don't believe in coincidences. Something was going on with her that we just haven't found yet." Instinct was telling him he was on the right track but he couldn't think with so much annoying he-hawing going on. Scoffed at by David, and McGee and Gibbs not on board, he was getting nowhere.

"You're the lead on this case, DiNozzo. Figure out what _you're_ not finding since _you're_ the one with the problem!" And Gibbs strolled out quickly without another word to get his hourly fix and a breath of fresh air.

Thus leaving DiNozzo with such a warm encouraging endorsement that he went back to his desk and started typing on his keyboard setting up important searches and looking for aliases or money trails; which was so far from the truth. He was so directionless at the moment floundering because he trusted his feelings that were telling him one thing but his confidence was failing. The hour he had left before he could go see Marc was going to seem like forever.

What they needed was a good old fashioned campfire where they could bounce ideas off each other instead of throwing barbs, and lobbying bickering egos back and forth. Tony groaned under his breath, wondering again what circumstances on the face of the planet, out of six billion people, had soldered the four of them together with the mistaken belief that they could _ever _work as one united team.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony's e-mails were proving interesting though and then there was that chicken recipe he needed to download as he had promised Dr Mallard and his mother Victoria an authentic Italian meal and he had even invited Jimmy the ME mortician tech assistant or whatever he was, and _his_ mother.

However, none of this stalling was getting him anywhere. McGee's skeptical gaze flooded over him often in between perusing his computer and sneaking peaks at Ziva; which was optimistically better then the grimace Tim usually aimed his way.

Ziva's not-so-subtle self-satisfied smirk, on the other hand, was ever present and just proved her continued opinion of his lack of intelligence. Her innocent smile showed she knew his investigation was going nowhere and that there was nothing more defined on his computer than a recipe for incompetence and failure.

Into this mix entered a noise so grating to DiNozzo's ears he wondered what else could go wrong to make his day.

"Gibbs, Gibbs...Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs?" Abby Sciuto came barreling in, in all her intensity and goth-clad curiosities waving a handful of printouts. Unmindful of other conversations that may or may not have been taking place at the time, her voice loud and demanding would be heard.

"Where's the Boss-man, McGee, Ziva, where is he? Come on, I've got some results back from that DNA re-test he wanted me to do and he's not going to believe it!" She looked around frenetically even standing on tiptoe to see over the partitions in case Gibbs was scrabbling around on the floor under the other team's desks.

_Somebody needs to cut off her Caf-Pow to eight in an eight-hour day, immediately! _Tony thought as he watched the high strung, motion-driven woman.

"What is it, Abby? I will take the information." Ziva motioned Abby to her desk, purposely ignoring Gibbs' instructions of assigning Tony as lead on this case, and Abby gladly rushed over to her pal with her back to Tony to whisper conspiratorially.

"Ziva, wow, modern technology trumps again even from eight years ago, it's amazing. We've come so far, even that degraded, unidentified DNA from that rag and scissors you guys found at the scene that Gibbs ordered that DiNozzo character to bring down to me to test was a success. Gibbs knows everything and he was right, the..."

Tony could hear the Goth-girl's words well enough and wondered at the delusional fool she always appeared to be to him whenever she opened her mouth to glorify Gibbs because that obsolete dinosaur wouldn't know DNA from LOL; which is what he was going to be doing, laughing out loud that is, if she continued spouting anymore ridiculous idolizations, and genuflecting, and crossing herself, her eyes and her fingers whenever she talked about Gibbs' clay-footed omnipotence.

What was wrong with her? It made him want to puke whenever he was in the same room with her, except it made it harder for him to get his own work done what with that distasteful bout of nausea at her sudden appearances; and always banging his knee into the emergency bucket he stored under his desk just in case he lost his lunch, was plain inconvenient. Tony realized his thoughts were bordering on girlie hysterical at the lab forensic technician's nearby proximity so he reluctantly tuned back in.

"...and guess what, it was found to actually..." Abby continued.

..."match the drops of blood on the knife handle that couldn't be identified before?" At the sound of his voice, both women turned to look at DiNozzo with a gasped surprise. Apparently, they thought he had ceased to exist.

Tony was still seated at his desk with his hands clasped before him on the desktop. He looked harmless enough and there was nothing to show on his face what he was thinking. But how did he know... Abby found her voice first.

"What do you know about it, Mister?" The lab rat inquired suspiciously. "I just got this information seconds ago." Her eyes squinted and her hands went to her hips. "It's not bad enough you use my babies without permission, but you've been hacking into my computer as well, haven't you, DiNozzo? Wait until I tell the boss-man, and Director Shepard. They're not going to appreciate..."

He held up his hands. "Now, now, Ms Sciuto. It was just an educated guess. And how could I get into your computer when you've told everybody around here how stupid I am and how I couldn't find my arse from my elbow. 'Just below Bart your farting hippo in intelligence', wasn't that what you said so eloquently at the Dunkin-Slam Sports Bar a few weeks ago?

"Now how could a person with an IQ lower than a stuffed animal that farts know how to hack into a computer belonging to someone with your genius intelligence, Abby? Surely that's not possible as it poses a conundrum couched in an enigma, you know, a question or statement so framed as to exercise one's ingenuity in answering it or discovering its meaning?"

Tony had learned that badgering his enemies with inane babble always clouded, distracted or redirected their issues. And he watched as Abby's pale face became suffused with red colored embarrassment that offset her black painted lips as she forgot the bone she was trying to pick with him over allegedly stealing her evidence and recalled the words she had spoken loudly and mockingly at the local watering hole a few weeks back after having more than her quota of Bloody Mary's with her beer chasers.

The sports bar had been packed with agents and cops and honestly she hadn't known who was there when she spouted _that_ off at the top of her lungs about her opinion of Tony DiNozzo. And even if she had known he was there, no guarantee that she would have curbed her tongue anyway. Still, embarrassing that she _had_ been caught out.

The two guilty gossip-monger women stared innocently at Tony as Ziva had also been at the bar greedily slurping her seventh glass of white wine and laughing uproariously and the loudest at Abby's rendition of Tony trying to read a lab report.

Mission accomplished, Tony got up from his desk and approached the dumbstruck females. He removed the papers from Abby's slack hand and went back to his desk speed reading the documents before the two could come out of their awkward guilty paralysis. He got all that he needed from the printouts then placed the papers on the edge of his desk and turned back to his computer.

Predictably, Abby found her voice first. "Why you, you...!" She clomped over to Tony and snatched the papers off his desk. "You, you! The nerve, you...!"

"You sound like McGee, Abby. You, you, c.c. 't dddddo ttttthat to me." He mock-stuttered in a falsetto voice. "You do k.k.k know, Abbbby that there are effective stuttering therapy ka, ka classes you can take on line, which I hear work very well if you are highly motivated enough t. ..."

"**DiNozzo**! Tony looked up absentmindedly from his computer at the sound of his name being called so emphatically. Ziva really could throw her voice. He looked curiously at the two hostile faces now glaring at him and realized he had let their continued sniping at him get to him and therefore, he hadn't been paying enough attention when he developed diarrhea of the mouth and let loose with the hurtful words he had best kept to himself.

Looking over at McGee's desk, he found the man had his face hidden behind his computer. Tony figured he had unintentionally embarrassed the younger man, someone who really didn't deserve his annoyance at David's and Sciuto's overbearingly bad attitude being taken out on him. Whatever was wrong between him and McGee had nothing to do with those two cunning she-devil witches and McGee should have been left out of the whole ugly mess.

"Ah, shoot." DiNozzo got up from his desk and stepped around a belligerent Abby and a really pissed-off David; her anger justifiable at his violation of McGee, but not because of any altruistic feelings for him but because she considered him to be her own private property to order around or demean at _her_ will.

McGee was quietly tapping on his computer head down and face turned away as though out of sight out of mind to those around him when Tony stepped up to his desk.

"McGee?" Tony spoke Tim's name quietly and waited until the man finally looked up at him. Briefly seen but quickly hidden was the hurt that resided within Tim at every bully he'd ever encountered, who always seemed to know his most vulnerable soft spots to be used against him to humiliate and embarrass. Had Tony come over to gloat and utter more of his spiteful words by taking a page from Tim's perfectionist father's book? The man who had hounded and tormented Tim to _be_ perfect until in order to communicate within his environment, stuttering was his only option lest he took the next step and made utter silence his way out.

"McGee, Tim, listen. I'm pissed off at those two were-hound dogs over there, and believe me, that's insulting the poor dogs, so what I said, you know, about the stuttering wasn't really directed at you, though that's no excuse. So, I want to humbly apologize for my careless crassness and stupidity and really useless words that I had no business saying and that I really didn't mean to impact on you. I won't hold it against you if you want to report me to human resources for behavior unbecoming an agent but I would prefer you excuse my mistake instead, it won't happen again."

When there was no response, Tony reached over and playfully tapped some keys on Tim's keyboard messing up his report but grabbing his attention. "You gonna forgive me, McGee, man, you know I'm 'unwashed, uncouth and drunk most of the time,'" Tony quoted but stopped when Tim didn't appear to know the movie reference.

"Anyway...look, sorry, okay?" Tony dropped the ill-timed joking and peered at Tim earnestly, his expression open and guileless for a change. The tentative smile that graced Tony's face couldn't hide the weary, strained, tired out and stressed visage that was much more telling. The man wanted, no, needed, more than anything, to help this kid Marc and see this case resolved in spite of the obstacles being piled in his way by his so called teammates. Tim could understand that; to find the perps and close this case, and feel good about something well done for a change.

McGee studied Tony's face a moment longer and realized the man was being truthful

on this occasion, he _was_ sorry. Actually, Tim had already figured out he was in the crossfires of DiNozzo's issues with David and Sciuto, and he, Tim, had suffered the aftermath of Tony's attempt to protect himself. None of it _had_ been directed at him personally but still had hit too close to home.

A sigh escaped Tim at the excessive conflicts that seemed to afflict this group of people on a regular basis. Every issue was over-the-top, bigger-than-life annoyances. There'd be an altercation over the color of ink used in signing reports if they weren't required to use black. He remembered that even the softness of the toilet tissue in the men's and women's bathrooms had been something to bicker about. He was ready to just let this one go. He and Tony weren't friends but everybody made mistakes and it was in Tim's nature to forgive transgressions. Tim nodded once for Tony's benefit, an apology was given and an apology was accepted, a first for them.

Not to be unnoticed or as forgiving as Tim, Abby butted into their silent communication with the mistaken belief that she was Timmy's protector; the poor baby couldn't defend himself against a brutal neanderthal like DiNozzo. "No, he's not going to forgive you and neither am I, Tony DiNozzo!"

She walked to Tim's desk quickly and with the confidence the support of Gibbs having her back gave her, placed herself in front of Tony, breaking the quiet retrospective moment the two agents had been engaged in.

Turning to Gibbs, who had just silently returned and in his usual gruff, annoyed voice asked. "What's going on?" Abby started in again.

"Gibbs, you're not going to believe this! While youwere gone I was trying to give Ziva an update on the information I found, you know the chain of command and everything, but come to find out Tony hacked into my computer to get information on this case before I could present it to you so he could make himself appear better than what he is. And did you hear him just now how he insulted Timmy about his affliction that he can't help because it's not his fault his father is such a..."

Tony tuned her out, again. Abby's slanderous allegations about his stealing and hacking pissed him off. Something like that being blasted in the department could cause him his job. It was malicious and false allegations without proof said at the top of her lungs, and she had gone too far! His written complaint would go to the Director and human resources as soon as he could get it printed out.

And her revelation to the whole building about what was undoubtedly a sensitive issue to McGee about his overbearing father and his personal life couldn't be sitting too well with the geeky guy either who liked his privacy. Still, her opinion on a scale of one to ten was minus zero to him so snubbing the spiteful woman was easy; he gave her the attention she deserved by rudely turning his back on her while she was still engaged in her malicious spiel, and walked back to his desk to grab his gear and gun, and attach his badge to his belt. It was time to go see the Arroyo's.

"Abby, _enough_!" Gibbs interrupted, surprising everyone, even causing Tony to pause in his haste to get out of there. Gibbs had listened to Abby's wicked and certainly spurious claims against DiNozzo and had been appalled at the bitterness erupting from his usually happy Goth. His impatience and disapproval, and a hint of disgust at her tirade, was plainly evident in his voice. He couldn't stomach this unfamiliar side of her and how out of control she had become. Looking back, it seemed to have all started when Stan Burley had fled and her unreasonable dislike of DiNozzo had taken root.

He should have looked into her changed behavior well before this, find out the reason she was so unhappy, so at odds with things. It wasn't like her. Something else his old Gunny Mike would feel it necessary to slap his head sideways he'd be walking backwards if he knew, as Abby held a soft spot in the old codger's heart.

"DiNozzo has lead on this case, Abby!" He stated firmly. "Pass all information on to him first, not Ziva! Is that clear?"

"What! But, Gibbs? A startled whine was pulled from Abby at his instructions; and had he just raised his voice in displeasure at her?

"Abby! Is..that..clear?"

"Yes, it's clear, but you..."

Gibbs turned away dismissing her and addressed DiNozzo.

"What have ya' got, DiNozzo?"

"The DNA matched the blood in the kitchen with the blood on the scissors and rag that I found in the closet. So the same man had his hand on the knife and also attacked Marc. I'm going over there now with the composite I was able to come up with this morning to show Marc and to question Arroyo some more about what his wife may have known or what situation she may have inadvertently fallen into."

Gibbs nodded at this, "Take McGee with you." Then without another word he left, headed upstairs to MTAC and ignoring Abby's startled eyes gaping at him as he passed her.

McGee gathered his things and pondered Gibbs' unusual censure and displeasure at Abby's hurtful revealing of secrets. Certainly a change from the way the two usually treated each other as walk-on-water Gibbs and Goth Princess Abby. Strange going's on but true; certainly no stranger than everything else cuckoo going on around there lately.

And why did it not surprise him that, according to Abby, he was too helpless to speak up for himself and needed her there in his corner to take care of him? Suddenly feeling suffocated and closed-in, Tim finished gathering his badge and gun and made to step around Abby to follow Tony out.

But Abby was obstinate and hurt at Gibbs' tromping on her feelings. And she was still trying to make her point, which was control Tim and belittle Tony. Abby didn't exactly step in front of Tim as he moved to follow Tony out but she came close enough that he had to stop or bump into her.

"Abby, what the...what're you doing?" This time just plain fed up with her nonsense and annoying bossiness, Tim didn't hide his exasperation as he tried stepping around her. "Abby, would you move?"

Abby loudly whispered near Tim's right ear. "Timmy, don't take that tone with me, just listen! This is for your own good. You don't have to trail after him. Let Ziva go, she'll put him in his place. If the three of us stick together like we always do we can make Gibbs see what a mistake he's making trusting _him_. You know I'm right, look at what just happened. Gibbs went right over Ziva, I mean, she has seniority, she's almost his second in command and...".

"You coming with me, McGee, or not?" Tony interrupted. Abby's attempt to dissuade McGee from doing his job was bizarre, even for her, and so out of line. Tony had literally one foot out the door ready to go while Tim was in a wrestling match with Abby because, according to her, he hadn't raised his hand for permission to leave the room.

Tony didn't wait another moment, more than fed up with Abby's need to play tug of war over Tim. He stepped around her, snatched at McGee's jacket sleeve and said quietly, "Let's go, McGee," and walked away quickly to the elevator. Tim's choice to stay behind or not was his own decision to make.

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848.

Warning: Same as chapter one. Again, personalities are exaggerated as I see them and over the top. **You have been warned!**

A/N: I've neglected to say thank you to the readers. Thank you.

CHAPTER FIVE

MY HEAD IS BLOODY BUT UNBOWED

They came upon the scene of mayhem and madness innocently enough. A simple re-interview and photo showing for identification purposes, reaffirmation of a promise of safety. An unlocked front door pushed open.

An unexpected bloody bath of a nightmare causing the two agents entering to be a second lax in pulling their weapons. There was no one there though to harm them, not anymore. Just the sprayed blood on walls and floor and indications of a valiant fight that Sam Arroyo had faced and lost as his lifeless body lay on its back on the living room floor in a pool of coagulated blood around an obvious blunt force head wound and stab wounds.

Tim felt Tony taking a deep cleansing breath beside him and letting it out swiftly, centering himself?

_McGee, I'll check the upstairs, you check down here. Secure the premises. Look for Marcus, _Tony almost ordered, anxious to find the boy, but wait, wait, that would be a Probie mistake, a newby, a rookie error that could get one or both of them killed. They shouldn't separate, he couldn't trust McGee on his own, not yet, if something happened...

"I'll check upstairs," McGee whispered and started towards the stairs.

"**No**!" Hissed Tony. "No, we'll stick together!" Terse orders from DiNozzo before he started the search expecting McGee to follow his lead. Tim's initial rebellious response was curtailed before it could take root. Now was not the time to fight over who was in charge.

They took turns taking point. McGee knew to approach a closed door on the side the knob was on. He knew about 'slicing the pie' when traversing a corner. His gun always pointed where his eyes were aimed. He avoided the fatal funnel when approaching a doorway. He kept his focus on his partner's back while remaining vigilant looking over his shoulder. They cleared each room on the first floor. Like partners, in sync. The second floor was cleared in the same way. "Clear!" said McGee as he checked the last closet. Marcus wasn't there. The place was empty except for them and the dead.

They went back to the living room to keep the body company after their thorough search of the house. Marcus wasn't there and there was no dead body of a young boy to be covered with a yellow tarp. Either he had been taken or he had gotten away. McGee started to think he had been around DiNozzo too long because he was getting the impression that rather than feeling relief at no other dead body, the man was extremely angry as he kept repeating damn_, damn, damn!" _under his breath over and over.

McGee couldn't help asking. "Where's the boy?"

"Right! Where's the boy?" Was DiNozzo's sardonic response. "The boy, whose name is Marcus by the way McGee, and do you realize if I hadn't been stalled at every turn by Gibbs' pride and the rest of them, Ziva David, Abby, I could have been here hours earlier, and the thing is," he continued bitterly, "maybe I could have done something, prevented this man's death and saved his son from whatever is happening to him now."

God, he hated them! He ran his hand over his hair, "Geez, just...never mind. Call Gibbs. I'll call the police."

McGee did as told. There was nothing he could say to dispute that.

Calls were made to Gibbs and the local police, and the bet was on as to who would reach the scene first. The Navy yard was further away than any LEO but Gibbs didn't flaunt his driving as much as flout the speed laws as pertaining to everyone else but himself.

Gibbs and Ziva arrived and both jumped out with guns drawn before the car fully stopped, racing to the open front door to the carnage inside. Police sirens followed suit and police spread the perimeter enclosing the house and the agents inside.

The police captain and his detectives had questions and received their answers, the little bit of info that the agents had. Jurisdiction was NCIS as they were following up on a cold case. DiNozzo told of a young boy missing and the captain sent two officers to Marcus' school to pick him up. If he was there. But the boy was missing, hadn't been on the school bus this morning and never showed up for school. An AMBER alert was issued.

"What the hell happened to him? Where could he have..." DiNozzo puzzled out loud to no one in particular, running his hand over his pale face momentarily at a loss, where was Marcus? Was this his fault for investigating something that should have remained secret and cold?

"Gibbs, there's no car in the driveway or garage." Ziva reported then noting Tony's drawn pale face said helpfully, slyly. "Do not spill out your guts onto the floor, DiNozzo, and contaminate the scene." Her comment was summarily ignored by DiNozzo, though he couldn't say the feeling of nausea hadn't been there for a moment.

"McGee? Type of..."

"Checking, Gibbs." McGee hurriedly used his cellphone and accessed the information they had on Arroyo. "Five year old Honda Odyssey, blue, four-door. I'll get a BOLO out on the vehicle, Gibbs."

They did their investigation, each having their own thoughts while they worked quickly but thoroughly. At Gibbs' orders, DiNozzo took pictures and McGee collected evidence. Ziva was assigned to question witnesses but when Gibbs left to talk to Ducky, she attempted to get DiNozzo to hand over the camera as witness interrogation was not her favorite thing to do.

She reached out her hand peremptorily. "I will do that, Tony. Why do you not see what the witnesses have to say? I am sure you will feel better outside in the cool air." She stood next to the quiet man thinking, _weakling, too much of a gory sight for your pathetic playboy stomach?_ But she felt a rare chill creeping down her spine and unusual sense of danger coming off of Tony when he turned burning eyes on her with an unfamiliar look so dark and intense that it gave her pause, before he moved away without saying a word, brushing against her arm as he pushed his way past her.

Well, that was...odd...that look of animosity directed at her had never happened before. She had never thought of him as dangerous and for a moment wondered at the ill-will so obviously present and aimed at her. Maybe her well-planned sniping and griping had finally gotten to him, perhaps he was planning retribution before he officially resigned from NCIS. She shrugged off a feeling of unease, confident that she was more than capable of dealing with him if it became physical.

She felt McGee's eyes on her outstretched hand and she quickly lowered it. Tony had gone to another room to take more pictures so she had no choice but to attend to her original assignment of questioning witnesses.

As she turned toward the door she saw Gibbs staring at her from across the room. Had he heard her basically try to tell Tony what to do, change his assignments, and if so, what was Gibbs' problem? What was the large, no, big deal? She had done it before, mostly with Tim and other junior agents assigned to their team, what was the difference now; he had never frowned on it before? The only problem as she saw it was DiNozzo's uncooperativeness. Holding her head up as though she hadn't just been put in her place, she turned around and left to do the job she had been assigned to do in the first place.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

They collected all the evidence they could find. Marcus' school had no information regarding his whereabouts. Sam hadn't called in regarding Marcus' absence today. None of the neighbors heard or saw anything. Ducky reported that the man had been dead for approximately nine hours and that he had been stabbed multiple times with a sharp instrument and struck on the head with a blunt one. Neither weapon had been found on the premises.

Forestalling Gibbs' standard questions, Ducky provided what information he had. "Of course, I'll know more when I get him back to autopsy, Jethro. You know the procedure. One thing, he does have defensive wounds on his hands and arms."

"Perhaps you were being tortured, my poor man...hhmm?" Ducky spoke that last in a whispered conversation with the deceased for his ears only. Then, "Mr Palmer shall we escort our guest to the office and make him as comfortable as we can under the circumstances, and we shall proceed with the autopsy first thing in the morning?"

"As you say, Dr Mallard."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

After the body was removed, they went over the scene another time to make sure they hadn't missed anything. Even though there was a lot of blood, whoever these guys were, they were professional. At first it appeared they left no physical evidence behind but some hairs _were_ found, some fiber, a partial shoe print but nothing that stood out as a smoking gun. The three junior agents met up in the living room after another fruitless hour of searching.

Annoyed, Ziva acted out as usual, wanting to place blame on the most convenient target available. "Where is the boy? Perhaps he was taken to ransom or to be used as a sex slave. Surely this could have nothing to do with Tony's earlier visit to the home?"

Of course it did, and she knew it. Her comment guaranteed to make Tony feel worse than a louse and placing blame on him went along with Tony's own already guilty conscience. He shook his head to clear it as he tried to ignore her words, and the fact that she wasn't even trying to hide that she really had no use for him, and how assigning him as lead to this case was a colossal mistake.

Tony also suspected she was a spoiled poor loser and resented being shown up or denied anything. If Gibbs wanted to listen to her, believe her, well, who was he to try and stop him but Tony was determined not to lose his cool _or _his focus while she stood back and pretended not to be the primer that set him off.

But not this time. Usually, he ignored her barbed remarks because what she said didn't especially affect him, but now it was different, someone else was involved. Marcus was missing-whose fault was _that_? Surely, she had to share in the blame. So this time he coolly and unemotionally responded.

"Maybe it did and maybe it didn't, David, but here's a thought. Instead of trying to hide _your_ incompetence by alwaysfinding fault with _**my**_ theories and _**my**_ ideas, why don't you at least tryand come up with some of your own for a change instead of hanging around here like the excess baggage and dead weight that you are, collecting a paycheck for doing absolutely nothing but running your ignorant mouth and stalling an investigation so that now a boy is missing?"

Tim, standing nearby gaping owlishly, marveled at the incredible amount of restraint and forbearance Tony had demonstrated towards this woman who had done nothing but challenge and goad him since the day they met. Tim's shoulders went back of their own accord as he stood up straighter. His days of being Ziva's lackey were just about over.

Ziva, on the other hand, stood taller as her body stiffened and an involuntary gasp escaped her lips-not from admiration at the other agent's harsh words, hardly that. No, because her pride, which she greatly revered, had been trod on and trampled under the feet of this man's arrogance. Her dark assassin eyes gleamed fiercely at him while her cheeks flushed. This was one time he had made his meaning perfectly clear to her, truthfully and without subterfuge; not couched in jokes or softened by false friendship, and she was taken aback as his savage insults hit home.

The undercurrent of mutual animosity was suddenly broken when Gibbs was there with his hard stare challenging the three agents.

"Problem?" By the looks of him, Gibbs expected _no _for an answer.

"No." Tony obliged, and turned to address McGee.

"What about that BOLO, Agent McGee, anything?"

"Ah, nothing, Tony, uh, Gibbs." Tim swung his head back and forth between the three agents before Tony turned disgustedly away from his co-workers and went outside.

Ziva's whole body quivered with restrained violence as she made the tremendous effort to reign in her feelings. In Mossad, as a trained assassin, you aimed at a target that was no more than a stranger and pulled the trigger. The target was dead and you went on to your next assignment with little afterthought of the destruction you may or may not have left behind. You worked alone and had no reason to appease anyone as long as you were successful at your mission. And she _had_ been successful, and confident.

She had never come across anyone whom she could not intimidate; not in Mossad where she had the extra protection of her father's big stick, and certainly not here in this country where most trembled at her mere presence and deadly reputation. She had not tried to overawe Gibbs; that was not in her plans. But DiNozzo, though she had tried, would not fall into line, and now, he had spoken words to her, in front of witnesses, that could never be called back. To protect her honor, tradition demanded that she must seek revenge for the insult.

She could do nothing now, though, but control her fury until a better time. With intense effort, she complained to Gibbs in a mild, unhappy tone as though she was not holding fire and storm within.

"Gibbs, really! How long are you going to continue to put up with Tony's lack of respect? I had nothing to do with stalling this investigation and I resent that he would even suggest such a thing!"

Mike was right, Gibbs realized. His glares sometimes were not enough to quell hardheaded agents and he was finally compelled to speak to his subordinate with some heat.

"I don't recall you had anything to do with helping this investigation, Ziva, rather, you did everything you could _to_ stall it. Now, there's a boy missing and DiNozzo feels responsible. What about you, David, do you share in any of the blame at all or feel anything about that, as we all should?

"And me having to stand here wasting time explaining _that _to you certainly isn't helping. Another thing, you think being a Mossad agent puts you in line to be treated like royalty, but it doesn't. In this Country, you earn respect. It's not granted just because of whom you are or who you _think_ you are. Now, are we done wasting time here? Let's go!"

McGee, still amazed at the longest speech he had heard Gibbs make in all the time he had been working with the guy, and an unhappy, reprimanded and resentful, Ziva David, trooped after Gibbs to the car where Tony was already seated in the front passenger seat, telephone at his ear. The local police were securing the premises with warning threats to the gawkers and strings of yellow plastic tape.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

On the way back in the extreme silence of the fast moving car, McGee's cell phone rang. He listened to the voice on the other end then leaned forward and burst out excitedly in Tony's ear, "DiNozzo, the BOLO...police found the van, you're not going to believe...it's been parked in an alley two blocks from the Navy yard..."

"Slow down McGee, did they find Marcus in the vehicle?" Tony questioned Tim with no little fear of a found corpse, and held on tighter to his seat as the car sped up.

"No, no, the vehicle was abandoned but the way it was parked, you know, haphazardly almost on the sidewalk, it could have been driven by someone not used to parking or even driving. That's what the police think anyway."

"Any blood or signs of foul play, McGee?" Gibbs questioned what was on all their minds as they arrived at the scene and he pulled up alongside a patrol vehicle guarding the van.

"No, nothing and no...uh, body either. The police just did a cursory exam of the vehicle to check for a ...body then closed it up tight." Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at the no body found but where was Marcus? "Maybe he's on foot and was trying to find you, Tony, since you left your card at his house."

"Yeah, maybe," said Tony. "Gibbs, I called the tow service. They'll be here in thirty."

"Good!" Gibbs grabbed a flashlight and issued more orders. "You two dust for prints on the outside only. We'll wait for Abby to examine the inside once it gets back to the lab. Ziva, you go north on foot, I'll take the south side towards the yard. See if you can pick up a trail of whoever got out of the van."

Gibbs noticed her frown of pending dissension, _again_. _Would she never learn? _He cut her off sharply before she could voice it. "Not a suggestion, David, just do it! I know we're not bloodhounds, but someone left this vehicle and took off on foot and in a hurry. We need to find him!"

Gibbs impatiently took off up the street, flashlight shining. He promised himself that this would be the absolute last time that woman or anyone on this team questioned or tried to change his orders while they were in the field again.

Ziva closed her mouth with an angry snap and started walking in the opposite direction. She had banked down the anger provoked by DiNozzo's insulting words, and then Gibbs' reprimand that he blamed her for this travesty. All this time, she had just been expressing the facts about their lack of anything cement about this case. And then to be accused by Gibbs that she had no feelings for the missing boy, that stung. What did he mean by that? Of course she had feelings. She _was_ concerned, she just did not need to act out like DiNozzo who had been standing in the room looking ashen and shaken and ready to throw up or sob unmanly tears.

She _had_ feelings. She just kept them well concealed, for no one's perusal but her own. Airing her weaknesses in public was against her pride in her privacy, unlike weak Abby who bawled fat tears at the merest slight; and her Mossad training guaranteed no emotion would escape her control in order to efface all outward signs of weakness. Her feelings, especially, would not help find Marcus and neither would DiNozzo acting like a baby who had lost his sucking rubber nipple.

And, honestly, she really had felt this was an un-alive cold case going nowhere. She admitted, if just to herself, that these mysterious clues Agent DiNozzo had come up with, seemingly pulled from nowhere, had clearly shown evidence that this case was no longer cold, and that frustrated her. Crustless white bread, really? Her research into DiNozzo's past, his schooling, finances, family, even his love life, put him on her list of people to be forgotten, ignored, or set aside as irrelevant. Maybe she should have dug a little deeper, done more than a cursory look when she made up his dossier, but now that wasn't the only thing that made her stomach clench like she was in the throes of labor pains. She was more concerned with Gibbs' odd behavior.

It was as though he had woken up from his nap and was now better able to take note of his surroundings. He had practically shouted at Abby earlier and had not noticed the alligator tears she had shed as she ran to the elevator. Disturbing, too, he had frowned at Ziva's changing his orders at the scene, as though she had not done that a million times before. He had not reprimanded DiNozzo for his disrespect, and now had her walking the street looking for nothing like a common rookie investigator best suited to the likes of weakling Timothy McGee. This would not do! She would demand a meeting with Jenny to discuss her position and what she...and her father, had been promised.

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McGee and DiNozzo meticulously dusted for prints around the door handles, the hood and trunk, and then waited for the others to return.

"You did a pretty good job clearing the scene today, McGee. It felt good having someone watching my back again." DiNozzo's seemingly idle comment had Tim's ears perking up. What was going on?

"I did? I mean...I did, really?" That was not quite suspicious intonation in McGee's voice.

"Yeah, took your classes at FLETC seriously, I see. You kept your focus, kept your weapon ready, good job all around, felt safe."

Tim tried not to let the praise go to his head. He felt this was important even though Tony was speaking casually. Tim replied carefully as though in his mind this moment was fragile. "Uh, thanks. So did you. Watch my back, that is, yeah, that felt pretty good."

"It did that." Tony replied absentmindedly, seemingly lost in thought. He threw the car keys in the air several times before abruptly turning to Tim as though he had finally made up his mind about something.

"Look, McGee, well, thank's for not mentioning my moment...my freezing at the door in all that blabbing and yelling you were doing yesterday..."

"Hey! So, I got a little over-excited...well, maybe a lot over-excited! Okay, look, I was hysterical, alright? That what you want to hear, DiNozzo? But you, you should have seen your face when Gibbs whacked you. I thought your head would go flying off like one of Abby's bowling balls, or split open like an overripe rotten melon." They stared at each other intently for a moment then burst into a bout of smothered, tension-relieving snickers and a chuckle together for a change instead of smothered hostility and dislike.

"Yeah, and believe me, it felt like he used brass knuckles or a brick, and he didn't hold back on his swing, either." More snickering, gradually petering out to companionable silence.

Taking advantage of the opening and treading carefully, McGee had to ask the question that had been burning in his mind ever since it had happened; why _had_ DiNozzo frozen at the door that way?

"You could...that is, if you want to, um..."

"Just spit it out, McGee."

"Yeah, uh, you want to talk about...well, maybe not to me, but you could if you..._Why_ did you freeze like that, DiNozzo?"

Tony sighed resignedly. It was hard to talk about that episode in his life. "...It's a long pathetic, sad story, McGee, or maybe not that long but still pathetic, about another boy who kinda resembles Marcus. I...look, maybe sometime I'll share it with you, later, if you still want to hear it, or better yet, look up a case of a boy's suicide at a police station in Baltimore. It should be easy enough for you to find but now we need to concentrate-just ..."

"Yeah, let's just find Marcus." They stood quietly not tense with each other for a change with a lost boy's whereabouts paramount in their minds.

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Ziva returned first disturbing the air with her disharmony and dissatisfaction. Tony set aside his dislike of her, just anxious to find out if she had found anything.

"Find anything, Officer David?"

And got his head bitten off for his efforts. "No! Does it look like I found anything and did you really expect me to?" She snapped sourly while dusting off her jacket and pants.

Gibbs returned also and overheard her. "Well, I found something. Your card, DiNozzo, on the ground and a few bare foot prints near it. Smaller prints, possibly a boy's or a small man's. Someone was running barefooted headed south toward the Navy yard. David, stay here and wait for the tow truck. Tony, McGee with me!" Gibbs started driving before the agents were fully buckled in while Ziva remained behind fuming at the ignominy of now being reduced to a car-sitting nanny to a decrepit van.

Gibbs drove down the street slowly while McGee and Tony checked in every alley and storefront for someone pint sized and scared lurking about. It was futile, it was dark, and the streetlights were few and far between. Marc just wasn't to be found.

Gibbs parked in the yard and sat a moment then slammed his hand on the steering wheel in anger and frustration. He was mad-mad at himself mostly for letting everything else get in the way of the safety of a kid, and being involved in a case that, because of his bullheadedness, his team knew as much about what was going on as reading a fairy tale to a donkey did.

"DiNozzo, dammit, the next time I stand in your way because my head is up my ass, you have my permission to shoot me point blank in the head where my ass should be!"

Gibbs had no intention to point blame at DiNozzo's door, actually the man had been persistently adamant about the urgency to do something, but it probably sounded that way to DiNozzo,who sat staring at him in angry denial. What Gibbs had meant to say was that he was admitting to being stubborn to a fault though he wouldn't go so far as to issue an outright apology; he didn't believe in apologies, it was a waste of time and words. But of course bullheaded DiNozzo would take his meaning the wrong way.

"You're blaming me for this, you bastard?" Tony growled.

Gibbs was right; the stubborn man had misconstrued his words. Gibbs saw where this was headed and they didn't have time for any more hollering and blame throwing.

"No...I'm...not! And if you wanna blame me, DiNozzo, blame me later! We're running around here in circles and getting nowhere fast and _I don't like it! _We're running out of time and there's a kid out there, probably people chasing him, a dead man who shouldn't be dead and we're sitting here so far behind leisurely chasing our dumb ass tails, I want answers!"

Tony lost it. "Oh, right, **Now** you're worried about the kid? Now you want answers? You son of a ..." And Tony actually lunged forward, his intentions clear enough, but Gibbs raised his arm in time, difficult in the confining space, and managed to block the blow that would have surely broken his nose.

The guy in the back seat sat through a moment of dreadful deja vu, remembering _his_ earlier attempt to throw such a punch in the front seat of this same car.

Was the car possessed?

Tim issued pleas to his companions to stop the escalating violence before someone got hurt, but it didn't appear anyone was listening to him as usual as DiNozzo's and Gibbs' hostility upped by degrees even though they were just staring daggers at each other for the moment. McGee's solution; he let loose with a last resort, a desperate animalistic act.

Suddenly, a loud ululating yell better known as the victory cry of the bull ape erupted from the back seat where they thought McGee was sitting. Startled beyond reason at the sudden shock of hearing that wild jungle cry in the enclosed space DiNozzo flung his body back against the door frame, and reached frantically for the door handle.

"What the hell!" Gibbs, a man of few words, did not find it necessary to expand on _his_ moment of outcry, adrenalin fueled panicked heartbeat and rapid pulse. But action speaks louder than words when he pulled his gun and pointed it at the back seat aiming for the enemy who was emitting such an ungodly noise.

DiNozzo on the other hand was not a man of few words. Still breathing heavily with his hand over his heart he barked out, "McGee was that you? What in the heck is wrong with you, man? Are you crazy out of your mind, McTarzan?! You've got to be kidding me. Do you know you took ten years...no, at least twenty years off my freakin life with that, that...that...unbelievable hollering caterwauling screaming noise?"

McGee thought it was a good thing what he had done, one of his better ideas. _Got their_ _attention, didn't it?_ His rambling thoughts continued, _At least they stopped fighting. I can't believe I have to be the voice of reason here, or the howl of an ape to get their attention. Why me? Gibbs should have left me back with the tow truck. I can do tow truck duty. Yeah, and let Ziva ride back with the two of them as the zookeeper to keep them in line. _

_She could do her ninja high-kick action moves from the back seat of this accursed car causing severe head injuries to the front seat occupants. Yeah, they'd be comatose and ineffectual and finally ripped out of my life like a stuck-on dirty bandage. And Ziva, locked up in jail in solitary confinement because the other cellmates, fellow murderers and sadists alike, would not feel safe and secure with her in their midst._

_Okay, that was stupid. I'm losing my mind! I can't take it anymore! I'm throwing in the towel and going back to cybercrimes to hell with my father the damn Admiral._

McGee, with his thoughts a panicky spiraling, out of control mess, stared at the gun finally leaving his face and swallowed noisily.

"Um, that yell, it's the Webelos warning and onward to battle cry. It's...ah, usually employed to move the boy's troops forward but also used to gain attention." He slouched back in his seat relieved that the gun was now out of sight.

"Well, it's stupid, McGee, just don't do it again!" DiNozzo groused angrily, removing his hand from over his heart and wiping at his sweaty brow instead.

"Look, you left me no choice, okay. I, uh, I did try to get your attention in a reasonable way but you weren't listening. Plus, I don't want to have to explain the blood and gore left in this car, that I think is already haunted anyway, and like you told me Tony, if you want to throw punches, do it in the gym after we find Marc."

Tim peered at the two hostile faces suspiciously. When he wasn't shot by a sleek metal gray handgun or knocked senseless by a meaty fist, McGee sat further back in his seat and most likely passed out.

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Gibbs and DiNozzo looked at each other then turned and peered at the man in the back seat. A few moments of silence later.

"I think he fainted." Gibbs said frowning; maybe the gun was a bit much.

"You think...you practically scared him to death, Gibbs, pointing a gun at him like that, but then again what can anyone expect from you," Tony sneered. He ran his hand over his scraggly face and with a grunt of frustration tried to calm down and salvage something.

"Look. I probably shouldn't have done that, throwing a punch like that. It must have something to do with this weird car, this case, Marc, I don't know. But, sorry I lost my temper. Write me up for it, fine, but later because now we need to concentrate on finding Marc."

Gibbs shrugged his shoulders to release the tension then snatched the key from the ignition. "You're right, no argument there, we need to find Marc. As far as writing you up, you've already tendered your resignation, no need to do any writing. Besides, McGee back there will probably have me up on charges for drawing my loaded weapon on him. And don't apologize, it's a sign of weakness."

"Whatever!"

"Don't mock. John Wayne knew what he was talking about, DiNozzo! Now let's get moving, McGee's been snoozing long enough."

They both got out of the car and opened the back doors. Gibbs went to slap Tim lightly in the face and Tony shook his shoulder but Tim suddenly sat up and swatted at their hands.

"Don't touch me, I'm awake." Tim stretched his neck of the kinks and looked around, then looked at the two other agents who were crowded in his personal space in the back seat.

"Tim, you okay?" DiNozzo questioned quietly.

Tim gave them both seriously intent dirty looks. "That depends. Can we get back to the case now? And I did _not_ faint." McGee pushed Tony aside practically climbing over him to get out of the car and grabbed his gear bag from the trunk before turning to the two guys still standing there watching him. He shook his head at them, "We're all idiots," he said then the very intelligent but geeky guy turned and headed for the elevator without saying another word.

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	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848.

Warning: Same as chapter one. Again, personalities are exaggerated as I see them, and over the top.

CHAPTER SIX

BEYOND THIS PLACE OF WRATH AND TEARS

Previously on NCIS

_We're all idiots!_

McGee rode the elevator up to their floor with a distracted DiNozzo all but pacing. The incident in the car as a topic of conversation was studiously avoided. Gibbs had made a detour to get coffee somewhere. When they arrived at their floor, McGee sat down at his computer and began entering a data search. Tony went off towards the men's room and Ziva wasn't back yet, which was a relief.

There was _something_ they were overlooking, but what? While the computer followed Tim's orders, the determined young man pulled up a private document on another screen and started filling in dates and times, and reasons for his request for a transfer just in case he decided to go through with it. But before that hasty decision, he opened a third document and pulled up and found the article regarding Jason Klein, thirteen, suicide!

Tony's unhappy thoughts had him rooted to the floor in front of the bathroom mirror, fear that he had failed again paramount in his mind. Ten minutes wasted in the car fighting with a man who would or could never listen to anyone else and who relied on his warped gut to instruct him what to do. Who had put up a sound barrier and thirty foot titanium solid wall blocking out any form of shared intel or human communication so that Tony's hunches were worthless to Gibbs and Tony's sense of urgency unreliable. The results? Marcus was missing with no clue of his whereabouts.

He was going back out to search the streets on foot, maybe a five mile perimeter around the navy yard. Maybe Marcus hadn't gotten that far with no shoes and was hold up somewhere close by, maybe...Maybe, maybe, maybe...it was getting him nowhere. He dabbed cold water on his face. He needed to think. He checked his phone again; no text messages and his phone needed to be seriously recharged. He wasn't going anywhere. Shit!

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Ziva returned to the office in the foulest of moods. She got on the elevator from the basement evidence room after being forced to ride back to the yard with the tow truck driver Gary; and Gary, the foolish man, had presumed to ask her for a date and she had been extremely insulted. Was she now a prostitute hitching a ride for a quirky or quickie, or whatever, to be paid cash on the spot? This was so underneath her! Gibbs had made a mistake in leaving her behind to do such a menial task and Shepard would hear more about this than the quick ten minutes she had had to explain her position on the cell phone while waiting for the tow truck.

Which is why she had threatened Gary with castration even before she climbed up onto the seat next to him, and every other invective sexual retribution she could come up with if he did not shut his mouth. Gary took the hint. He wasn't even insulted that this sexy woman acted like he was scummy polluted pond water, he was kinda turned on, but she did angry insult and hostile intent to the utmost degree, and she oozed very dangerous vibes. He was just happy when all was said and done to still be alive. The ride back to the yard was done quickly, efficiently and very quietly. Gary held his tongue and hardly breathed aloud as he unhitched the vehicle, signed the paperwork, jumped rapidly back in his tow truck and fled the premises with his manhood still intact.

Ziva rode the elevator to the MCRT floor and icily perused her teammates as she placed her bag behind her desk and sat down. McGee glanced up at her stony face than quickly looked back down at his computer screen so intently the lottery ticket number he had at home must have just materialized on the screen as the winner and was staring at him in the face.

DiNozzo didn't even bother looking at her as he came back to his desk from the men's room and hooked his cell phone to the charger. Ziva slammed her drawer shut after securing her gun. How dare her teammates continue to ignore her, which infuriated her sense of entitlement, and she chose to disregard the dressing down she had just received from both DiNozzo and Gibbs as she bit out savagely, "Obviously you failed on your goose hunt wild fox chase. And it is no wonder. It appears the boy is quicker at leaving you dust in the wind than Kansas."

McGee slumped further in his seat after hearing those words strung together in nonsense _and_ taking one look at DiNozzo's pale, stone-cold face. _Oh, god! _ Thought Tim. _Wrong time for this, lady, please, tempers are high enough and I don't want to be in the middle of another...whatever this is. I need to get the heck out of here for real...run for the hills, man, take a... _

But McGee didn't move in spite of the overwhelming desire to do so. For some reason, he felt compelled to stay around, be a witness to whatever was going down because, face it, he _was_ a part of this. This was his team. A man had died and they had lost a kid today, it was all of their faults.

Tony glared at Ziva, coldly, contemptuously. She'd said worse things but for some reason, that was the 'straw'. He'd had enough of her _and_ her mangledrepertoire of just plain ridiculous idioms, sarcastic criticisms and putdowns.

"How long have you been in this country, Officer David? Let me give you some good advice right now before this goes any further. You need to just stop talking altogether, just quit while you're so far behind. Or speak in Hebrew, yeah, we'll understand what you're trying to say much better, or better yet, just pretend you're mute."

Tony wasn't done yet, he could go on for hours. She wasn't the only one who could bad mouth and denigrate, all in seemingly innocent but deadly 'sport'. "Matter of fact, I suggest you take up sign language or maybe miming, yeah, that's pretty universal and you're dexterous with your fingers, what with all the knife sharpening you do, and paper clip twisting and untwisting that takes up so much of your time during your working hours here."

Tony was interrupted when his phone rang; he held up his finger at her mockingly, "Let me get back to you, Officer David." And turned away to answer the phone, missing the former assassin's face now distorted with violent uncontrollable anger directed at his back.

She waited and when he hung up, she stood up and said coldly. "Did you not just tell me to shut up, Agent DiNozzo? How dare you! You have the gall to tell me to my face to _shut up_?"

"I thought I just _did _tell you to your face, Officer David. You think you're the only one around here who can run her mouth indiscriminately and suffer no consequences because everybody is scared of your Ninja shenanigans? Get real, David!"

Tony had hung up his phone disappointed the call wasn't from Marcus. He hotly confronted the woman standing across from him who was one of the reasons he hadn't gotten to the kid in time. He sat back seeming relaxed in his seat but his eyes were a flinty coppery challenging hue as he dared to provoke and incite.

What was she going to do about it, pull her gun on him the way Gibbs had done to McGee? He wasn't in the habit of hitting a woman but it looked like the first time could be imminent. Always cynical even in dire straits, Tony figured his odds. If this deadly female fighter did retaliate physically, well, there was a desk separating them and he had a longer arm reach than her and he'd stay behind his desk as they traded punches except in her case it would be kangaroo kicks aimed for his most vulnerable parts, which would prove pretty painful if she found her intended target. So he'd scoot down behind the desk somewhat to protect...

But Ziva didn't pull her gun or kick him in the balls but she did manage to lambaste him every which way anyway in the most foul and filthy derogatory insults she had in her extensive knowledge of languages about his manhood, his lineage and his genes. She ranted and cursed, raved and threatened, and promised to kill him slowly and painfully in ways that he could never imagine. She got up in his face and waved her arms and denigrated his courage and strength as a man that surely were obscene, and sprayed unladylike drops of spittle on his collar.

Gibbs returned briskly carrying his coffee and drinks for the other three agents as a peace offering, and a silent apology to McGee for pulling his gun on him. He'd had a peaceful walk to the coffee shop and a few words with the older male barista who worked nights and who he shared a love of wood with, only to step back into a war zone. The sounds of a hysterical woman yelling what appeared to be profanity, curses and threats in another language, several languages, was the telltale sign that something was amiss.

Was that Hebrew? Whew! He understood some of those words and it didn't sound good. It sounded like Ziva was berating someone whose liver she was going to feed to the dogs after she snipped it from his still live flapping body..._what the 'blue falcon'_...Gibbs thought, he had only been gone fifteen minutes.

Gibbs dumped all but his own coffee into the nearest garbage can and lamented the waste of good coffee; but whatever was going on here, these people didn't deserve a treat. He came around the partition and got his first clue, then wondered what in the hell DiNozzo had done now, and was dumbfounded at the man's poke-the-bear lack of self-preservation.

Ziva's issue seemed to be something about shutting up...Tony had told her to shut up? Ziva _was_ a trained assassin after all. She'd shoot and he wouldn't know what took him out and she'd have an airtight alibi, a witness boyfriend and several hundred party attendees swearing she danced regally at the ball all night. He just shook his head at the stupidity and sheer folly of the man, and started some yelling of his own.

_**"Everybody**_** needs to shut up or I'll shut you up unless it's to tell me that you have found **_**something**_** on...this...case!"**

Gibbs' bellow interrupted Ziva's tirade mid-curse. She was leaning over DiNozzo's desk face to face with him but he had moved his chair back to put some distance between himself and the incensed woman, and had his arms crossed in front of his chest in the defensive position, and a befuddled look on his face. McGee, surprisingly, had gotten up from his seat; his stance and determined expression indicated his readiness to throw himself into the fray to break things up if they got physical. _Good man! _ That spontaneous sentiment came unexpectedly to Gibbs in spite of the ongoing chaos; McGee was proving to have deep surprising pockets. Still didn't prevent him from looking at Gibbs in gratitude and relief at his return as he plopped back down in his chair.

Gibbs made it to his desk before he barked again at the now silent crew. **"Well?" **

Several tense moments later, a haggard sounding McGee spoke up. "Uh, I think I found something, Gibbs." He got up and approached the plasma screen. "I was able to ferret out twenty names of the female workers who worked on the same floor as our victim.

"Seven of them are retirement age or older so I eliminated them; Mrs Arroyo told her husband the woman stalking her was around her age. Five more eliminated are of different races as the woman was Caucasian with blond hair and light eyes."

Tim looked over at Gibbs to gauge his response. Was he drawing it out too long, talking too much? Trying to get as much information in with as few words as possible inhibited what he could say, but that was Gibbs' style. Usually, by now, Gibbs would have grunted impatiently about speeding things up or given him an irritated 'what are you waiting for' scowl, but thankfully Gibbs wasn't paying too much attention to Tim and his over- chattiness as the man hadn't taken his eyes off the other two delinquent agents who remained stiffly poised on either side of DiNozzo's desk. He held them in that position with his forceful, unrelenting stare of cold anger that dared them to say _anything_ that was not related to this case.

"You two going to join us or you can go home now, and don't bother coming back!"

"You cannot fire me, Gibbs." Ziva bragged smugly. Now, _that_ was not related to the case and Ziva realized even before those words were fully out of her mouth, that she had just made a tactical error when she challenged Gibbs' authority.

Gibbs took a moment to absorb her prideful boast then with narrowed darkened eyes and predatory stalk around his desk confronted Ziva up close. She foolhardily and arrogantly held her ground in front of Tony's desk.

"That may be so Officer David, but I let me assure you I can and _will_ make your life **a living hell!"** Icebergs couldn't have held their ground against the arctic sound of Gibbs' voice.

Ziva didn't flinch he had to say that for her; Eli David had taught her well. But she had apparently, in that short amount of time, reconsidered her damming comment.

"I did not mean to challenge your authority, Agent Gibbs. I merely meant that Director Shepard wouldhave the final say in who was terminated or who was kept on as an agent." Her explanation, passively given, was void of all signs of pride or self-satisfaction. She stood with her arms relaxed at her sides, unthreatening.

Gibbs didn't buy it. She had meant and believed what she said. And so had he!

"You may not have meant what _you_ said, Officer David, but I do! And I'm warning you; **you mess with me and you will regret it, Director Shepard, or not! **I hope you understand _that!"_

His meaning was brutally clear and there was no response she could make to that promise, nothing she could refute it with. She didn't take his threat casually even though she had the Director of NCIS at her back and the Deputy Director of Mossad in front of her. Still, Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs would be a formidable opponent if challenged and there were better ways to accomplish her goals than taking him on as an adversary.

Gibbs stared at her, coldly unblinking, and let the tense moment last another heartbeat before turning away.

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"The other women, McGee?" Gibbs barked as he walked back to his desk.

McGee jumped and his Adam's apple bobbed once in nervous energy. "Yes, the other women; that leaves eight women who might be the one who approached Mrs Arroyo. I have their names here, we uh, could split them up, do background checks...or, why don't I just do them myself if..."

"I need to go and look for Marcus, Gibbs, any objections?" Tony interrupted Tim's nervous prattle. His posture indicated he expected an objection, but also that he was going anyway.

Gibbs would not accept this challenge for what it was, not this time. Too much wasted time had already passed. "Where do you intend to search?"

"A five mile perimeter, around the Navy yard on foot. How far could he have gotten?"

"Borrow Dorneget from Evidence and start at the front and circle around in opposite directions. You'll cover more ground that way, and keep your phone on, Marcus might show up here."

"Yeah, yeah...thanks." Given some direction from Gibbs helped DiNozzo's foggy brain to focus as he gathered his things and hurried to the elevator with his phone at his ear. "Dorneget, meet me in the lobby..."

"I'll go with him, Gibbs, if..." Tim started to get up.

"No, you're needed here, McGee. First find the nearest surveillance cameras in the vicinity around the home. Maybe they'll show something."

"Okay, I'll check the cameras around the yard, too. Maybe Tony won't have to look on foot for..."

"Let DiNozzo do what he has to do, McGee. He'll be back soon enough. David, get started on those background checks on those women."

Tim reluctantly went back to his computer in spite of his uneasy feeling that something unpleasant was about to happen. Ziva's stubborn rebellious attitude had not diminished, as briefly shown in her stiff posture. She had erred more than once this day and shamed herself and her father, and even her Mossad training by losing control of her emotions, her temper, and her tongue in such an unseemly, embarrassing way at that pig DiNozzo, and challenging Gibbs' authority; two bad mistakes.

Even so, this wasn't over as far as she was concerned-and after she and Jenny talked, Gibbs, and DiNozzo, would know exactly where they stood. She snatched the list of names from Tim's desk and went back to her computer to start her searches. She wasn't out of the play yet.

After Tony left and the other two were on their computers, Gibbs started quickly up the stairs to pay a visit to Director Shepard's office. Because of her nefarious schemes and his inactivity, his team was screwed up and off kilter, with some pretty troubling issues that needed to be cleared up. One of which was, where Ziva David got the impression that they shared leadership of his team? If that were the case, Jenny Shepard forgot to clue him in. Two people trying to be alpha was a road headed to disaster but Ziva acted as though she was being primed to take his place. Was he going somewhere? And if so, it was news to him.

That was as good a place as any to start with the furtively sly Lady Director.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Earlier, Jenny Shepard had stood back from the railing above the bullpen and in the dimmed light was just out of sight of the bickering agents. She snickered genteelly into her hand. Perfect. And boy did Ziva have a foul mouth, and so out of control. Delightful. The fractured group below was moving backwards just as she planned.

Ziva's complaints still rang in her ears from her earlier phone call when she described the humiliating 'down put' of being left behind to babysit a rundown van that belonged in a junk yard.

_"You must do something about this vile situation you have placed me in, Jenny. Eli David has made certain promises to you as you have to him and this is how you honor your commitment? Blah, blah, blah." _Ziva epitomized a scratched, old-fashioned 78 rpm record.

"I _am_ keeping my promise, Ziva." Jenny had lied straight faced to the irate spawn of Eli David as she had been lying about every other thing she had told the insufferable spoiled brat. How anyone in their right mind, including her father, could put a gun in this woman's hand and expect her to exercise restraint when she was so lacking in self-control was mind boggling. That, coupled with her erroneous feelings of self-importance had blinded her into thinking she was worth a whole hell of a lot more than she would ever be to this agency.

It was so obvious, even Jenny could see it, and _she_ had never gone out in the field with the woman, that David was like a three year old child in a toy shop running every which way craving immediate gratification of her wants, without discipline or caring who got knocked over with the wheeled pushcart in her haste. Witness the young man she murdered in the NCIS elevator because he wouldn't shut up in the time she allotted him, and subsequently suffered from one minute to the third floor a violent, painful chop to the neck and death by her hands. Tidying up _that_ mess had taken a lot more 'favors' than she had to spare.

Why Eli David wanted to switch his daughter's profession from loner assassin and autonomy, which suited her, to teammates, a boss, and lack of independence was a mystery to Jenny. The woman was obviously best suited to work alone, but instead, her father resorted to pawning her off to NCIS, an agency that required the spirit of teamwork. As far as the lie she had told the David's about Ziva having her own team, it was laughably naive of them to believe such utterly unbelievable tripe. Ziva David did not have the experience, the personality, the temperament or the skills to lead anyone, much less the self-control to lead herself.

Then, really entertaining, was DiNozzo's extremely well-expressed solution to Ziva's mangled idiom problems. Jenny barely avoided laughing out loud when Ziva had finally figured out in all that gobbledegook, mumbo-jumbo sprouting from DiNozzo's mouth, and expressed so eloquently, was just a roundabout insulting way of telling her to 'shut up'.

Ziva's response was typically her default response. Attack! And boy had she attacked DiNozzo viciously with her words. DiNozzo sat there stone-faced but obviously dumbfounded and confused at the woman's rapid fire gibberish crap she was heaping mound-like on him, that apparently, but he couldn't be sure, had nothing to do with him having a good long healthy life and the joys of many grandchildren.

Jenny was enjoying the show so much that when Jethro stepped into the darkened enclosure that was the designated MCRT area, something, which had been obscure, came into stark focus again, revealing an intensity of purpose in the man that she hadn't seen in a long time. Gibbs took control of the room with his presence, and one commanding yell, and everyone stood up and took notice.

He was challenged up front by David and she was effectively put in her place with a dire warning that he would and could exact retribution if she messed with him and that he could go over Jenny's head and get her thrown off the team; and that wasn't an idle threat.

Gibbs also knew when to pick his fights and he went down for the count when he gave tacit approval to DNozzo to do his search, rather than fight with the man to stay put.

When he glanced upstairs as though feeling eyes on him, she knew she was his next target. His look suggested his determination to confront her about what was going on with his team and what games she was playing. Shit! All she needed was his ice blue eyes and disapproval scumming up her perfectly pristine plans.

Shepard slipped quickly away to the elevator to get out of dodge and regroup. This was not good. Granted, she wanted to see the mighty Leroy Jethro Gibbs fall as pay back for scorning her attempts at rekindling a relationship with him, but now was not the time.

She wasn't ready for that confrontation yet. And she especially did not want him to resume his excellent leadership skills now when her plans were not yet complete. He should have stayed in that coma longer or woken up fifteen years further in the past and stayed there mourning his lost saint of a wife that no other woman could compete with, and his daughter.

She was counting on his sleepwalking through his days to not take notice until it was too late to do anything about the fact that _his_ team would be taking the fall for classified information being leaked in the Domino operation. She had redirected any suspicion away from Lee and Keating who were the real moles in the organization.

Damn, Jethro! Dr Jeanne Benoit and Professor Anthony 'DiNardo' were set to meet on a blind date she had arranged through her contacts, even if he had to be dragged there kicking and screaming. Jethro would spoil every opt she had going for her if he pushed and shoved his way into her domain; Rene Benoit for the revenge she sought that would ease her pain, and the failure of the Domino Project due to her disloyal, traitors act against her own country that would generate more money for her than she could ever use in her lifetime.

Not only that, but she suspected that Gibbs knew about her forcible removal of Morrow by blackmail and stealthy underhandedness and would more than likely seek some sort of retribution for hurting his friend.

Now was not the time to stick around and face an irate Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Not until she'd read the secret file she'd finally gotten her hands on after a great deal of money had exchanged hands. She'd read the file about Pedro Hernandez and the Reynosa cartel, and find out what exactly Gibbs' part was in this man's homicide. What did Jethro have to do with this man's death? Should prove interesting reading and, especially, how she could use it against him.

Jenny hurried to her car berating the irksome Gibbs for seemingly coming out of his stupor and throwing a wrench into her plans. _Use that wrench on your boat, you meddling fool, or better yet, use it to knock yourself on the head twenty times till you pass out under your boat. _She burned rubber leaving the parking lot with those evil thoughts racing through her mind.

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DiNozzo and Dorneget stopped at the guard gate before starting their search around the Navy yard.

"Hey, Tony, what's going on?"

"Bruce, hi. Tell your men...if you see a kid, a teenage boy lurking around, don't scare him but bring him in...it's important. He's on the run from whoever killed his father and we think he may have made it here on foot. Ned and I are going to search around the perimeter...he's probably barefoot...just, keep an eye out, okay?"

"Sure, thing, Tony. Sure. Hey, Grant here just came on duty. Want him to help you search?"

Tony eyed the man in uniform. "That might be a good idea. He doesn't know you Ned but he might trust a man in military uniform. Yeah, thanks, Bruce. Let's go!"

Tony sent the other two one way and he went the other. He searched the dark streets, passed the coffee shop still open but resisted the urge. Few pedestrians were on the street though it wasn't that late, there was a light drizzle; pretty unpleasant to take a leisurely stroll. That's why the man ahead walking with his hand on some kid's neck shoving him forward towards a parked car looked out of place. Another man stood at the open car door, big bouncer-type body with a bald head. When the kid saw the other guy, his struggles became more intense and he kicked out with his bare foot which got him a hard slap to the side of his head by the guy holding him.

Tony stayed in the shadows, quiet, though he could hear his thumping heartbeat. The thugs ahead weren't in any particular rush. What could a thirteen year old kid do to them? And they apparently hadn't figured out that anyone might be looking for him, not after they had already silenced both of his parents.

"Ned, I've got the kid in my sights being forced into a car. There are two men and a driver, license plates obscured, brown or black, Lincoln Continental, sedan. Bouncer-type, bald head, armed, can't see the other guy or the driver. I'm a little past the coffee shop, Ned, where are you?" Tony urgently whispered.

"Not too far, rounding the Fire Station. We'll be right there..."

"Don't think I can wait, Ned."

Dorneget didn't waste time arguing. "Come on, Grant." For a big man, Ned could run lightly on his feet. They sprinted towards the coffee shop and pulled their weapons when they heard gunshots, once, twice and several more in rapid succession.

To be continued

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848.

Warning: Same as chapter one. Again, personalities are exaggerated as I see them, and over the top.

CHAPTER SEVEN

FINDS AND SHALL FIND ME UNAFRAID

Previously on NCIS

_Don't think I can wait, Ned._

Dorneget didn't waste time arguing. "Come on, Grant." For a big man, Ned could run lightly and quickly on his feet. They sprinted towards the coffee shop and pulled their weapons when they heard gunshots, once, twice and several more in rapid succession.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

DiNozzo managed to creep closer from car to car without being seen by the men trying to force a wily teenager into a car, feet first. The kid wiggled violently and was almost dropped by the cursing twosome but Marcus couldn't hold out much longer against the strong thugs who had one purpose in mind. DiNozzo wasn't going to let that happen. He would have to break cover and go for it.

He decided not to give a warning cry, these dirtbags didn't deserve 'NCIS, drop your weapons' thrown at them and giving them the edge they needed to shoot him and escape with Marcus. He'd waited as long as he could for Dorneget so when he saw his opening he was going to take it.

Bouncer guy had his big knuckled hand around Marcus' neck choking him into submission. In a moment Marcus would be in the car and away. Tony stepped out from his hiding place, aimed and pulled the trigger striking a very effective head wound into Bouncer's right eye. Bouncer crashed against the side of the car, obviously dead before he hit the ground, and his big hand slacked its hold from around Marcus' neck.

"Run, Marc!" Tony yelled and then, "NCIS, drop your weapon!" He tacked on as an afterthought as the other guy turned and cursed, and protected by the car door, took aim and fired at Tony who just barely managed to find some cover behind a jeep. Tony fired again and again emptying his weapon, hoping to hit the driver who had started the car. He felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder as he dropped to the ground but rejoiced that Marcus had found his feet and managed to jerk out of the other guy's hold and take off.

Suddenly, bullets were striking the perps car door and the back window shattered as backup arrived. The other guy saw the writing on the wall and it was time to get out of dodge. He kicked the dead Bouncer out of the way, jumped in the car, slammed the door closed and the vehicle took off.

Dorneget kneeled down in front of DiNozzo and continued firing into the now speeding away car. Grant was shooting also and was shortly joined by his backup police on foot and more than enough cars with sirens blaring that took off after the fleeing attempted kidnappers.

"Tony, how bad are you hit?" Dorneget asked not quite panicky, as he pushed down Tony's jacket to see the wound.

"Ow, ow, ow, Ned, take it easy! It doesn't feel like a bullet wound. I think I was just grazed along the top of my shoulder so stop with the heavy handed torture, would you? Where's Marcus? Help me up, man!"

"Well, it's bleeding a little, not too bad though...Just hold on, stay put! The ambulance is on its way and Marcus is okay. Grant is bringing him over now; would you just stay down!"

"Do like the man says, DiNozzo. Marc is right here." Tony thought he was delirious _and_ hearing things. That sounded like Gibbs' voice; what was he doing here? He tried again to get up but the spots before his eyes were spinning faster and faster until the spots coalesced into one big blob of blackness and obliviousness followed the spiral dive downward.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony came to in the ambulance with a long moan escaping his lips from a boatload of pain in his left shoulder. Damn Dorneget! The man was more hindrance than help; he could have gotten up! Now, he was disoriented and confused, and had the chemical sensation of a sedative or pain killer coursing through his body that obviously hadn't taken effect yet because his shoulder hurt like a son of a gun but was making his mind mush, and sure enough, there was an IV in his left inner elbow leading to a plastic bag with clear liquid overhead.

The last he remembered, he was fighting with Ned to let him up and Gibbs' voice was coming out of Dorneget's mouth or somewhere from behind Ned's left shoulder; creepy.

"Take it easy, Tony. You're in the ambulance. We're headed to Bethesda..."

"Where's Marcus, Ned?" Tony tried sitting up but he was strapped down around his torso, but his hands were free so he planned on ripping the IV out and bailing out of the moving van if someone didn't tell him where the hell Marcus was!

"Would you take it...look, he's in the ambulance ahead of us, going to the same hospital. His feet are pretty badly torn up but..."

"Hey!" Now the ambulance technician felt the need to butt in. "Don't pull that out and lie still. It's just distilled water for fluid replacement, man, you lost a little blood from this shoulder wound here, and something for the pain. But if you keep struggling, I'll insert something stronger to knock you out, so quit it."

When the EMT with the bedside manner from hell reached for a small bottle with a clear liquid, Tony stopped trying to extricate the big needle and collapsed back down on the cot. The threats from the EMT beside the point, he needed to make sure Marcus was all right.

"He needs to be protected, Ned...people are after him...got to..." Tony snatched at Ned's shirt, agitated-not quite combative, therefore there was no need for the technician to surreptitiously inject something into his IV line so that he started to feel that unwanted wooziness and vacuum.

"Tony, listen, we've got it covered. A Navy cop is doing guard duty-you remember Grant? He's riding in the ambulance with Marcus. Everything is fine, trust me, just try to..." Was the last Tony heard as he succumbed unwillingly to the sleepy-time drug.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony woke up again during a mild, uninteresting gurney ride as he was being pushed gently along through a tunnel of whitewashed walls and gently opening bay doors. He watched as the fluorescent lights above moved by at a leisurely pace, and his thoughts flowed freely uninhibited by distress, and feeling no pain.

Obviously, he was not facing major invasive surgery to dig out a lead bullet or a possible terminal end to a fatal gunshot wound this go round as that would have resulted in a mad rush on a gurney with squeaky wheels and rattles, bumping and banging into hard doors, frantic hands, bagging air and thumping on chest, and a continuous, 'calling Dr So-And-So, STAT, calling Dr'...on the hospital intercom overhead.

In the surgical room, Tony's shoulder wound was stitched up and the doctors praised the fortunate man's charmed life as though Tony had anything to do with the shooter's poor aim; just a half inch to the right and...well, he got the picture. He ended up with a bulky bandage, a sling, clean scrubs for a shirt and a sack of antibiotic and pain medication. Ducky was there as his medical proxy and was discussing outpatient care for a stubborn patient who was insisting on leaving the hospital against medical advice.

Dorneget had been waiting for him when he left the hospital room AMA and at the sight of him, that feeling in Tony's chest got tighter and heavier as though a clamp had his lungs in a vice-like grip so that taking a deep breath was difficult and not worth the effort, not if Marcus...

With trepidation, Tony asked carefully, "Where's Marcus, Ned? He's here, right? You didn't...you left him alone?" Ned just gave him an insulted look and took him to where Marc lay in a hospital bed. His feet were bandaged and his eyes were closed, a forced sleep, evidenced by the hospital's standard torture device, the mighty IV equipment that was thankfully not attached to any part of Marc's body anymore.

At seeing Marc alive and well, Tony's lungs suddenly expanded freely again as air entered and left in relief, and his stomach unknotted. No matter this boy's hard road ahead, he _was_ alive. This one time, he had been saved like the other one had not.

Expecting to see Officer Grant from the Navy yard guarding him, Tony was surprised that McGee was there instead; rising from his chair, on alert, as they came in but sitting back down in the hardcore chair when he saw who it was. Oh, god! Gibbs probably wanted Tim to get a statement from the boy ASAP; hobble him in on his two bad, bloody feet into one of the interrogation rooms, hands cuffed behind him, parched throat and grumbling stomach from hunger...

**"Noooo! **Tony yelled as a result of the drugs that had been forced into him, causing anxiety and bad memories to resurface. That yell startled everyone who was awake in the room, including the mopping maintenance guy in the hallway, to red alert.

"What the...Tony, what's going on? McGee had jumped up and had his hand on his gun looking around frantically, and Marcus whimpered in his sleep. Dorneget had his eye on the maintenance guy with the mop; one hand on his gun while the other reached for his handcuffs. The innocent maintenance guy felt he had no choice so raised his hands in surrender.

_Oh god! DiNozzo, you're losing it, what the hell is wrong with you? _Tony's thoughts were fuzzy as he raised his good arm beseechingly and said quickly to the panicked room. "Everything's okay, sorry, sorry. It's just the medication they gave me, makes me a little paranoid, that's all."

But that vision of Gibbs giving Marcus the third degree while the boy sat across from him with his head lowered dejectedly, denying him food and something to drink was absolutely too real and beyond horrifying. It just brought back how isolated and fearful Jason Klein must have felt as he sat in that office full of all important men while they drank their coffee and chatted-those men, who didn't see fit to offer Jason a modicum of sympathy or caring, even just a bottle of water, as he suffered alone.

Tony remembered how the saddened Mrs Harris the child social worker, stoically suffering her own pain and feelings of guilt, talked about how she hadn't been able to take Jason for that lunch she had promised him and how hungry he must have been.

_Geez. _That's why he avoided drugs at all costs because of the adverse effect they had on his mind and his emotions. Tony licked dry lips-talk about being parched, and moved further into the room after stepping out of the way of the janitor's hasty flee from their presence. His name tag identified the poor man as Jerome who didn't look too happy with the federal agents standing on alert aiming accusing eyes at him suspiciously, and their hands too ready near their guns as they tried to figure out where _he_ stood on the FBI's most wanted; and when was the next flight out on the cargo plane to Gitmo?

"You Feds are pigs,"mumbled the irate, insulted man as he took his mop and bucket and stormed to the other end of the hall.

"Sorry, Buddy, no hard feelings?" Tony tried placating to Jerome's retreating back then he shrugged indifferently as his mind went elsewhere. "Fine, be that way."

Dr Mallard saw the puzzled faces of the other agents at DiNozzo's somewhat loopy expression and actions. "I'm afraid Anthony here does have some issues with analgesics and sedatives. I shall get him a cup of hot, strong coffee from the cafeteria, which should help while the drugs are being purged naturally from his system. Please sit down, Anthony."

Tony ignored Ducky's request and thought he walked over to the sleeping teenager though he seemed to stumble over his feet every third step or so, and stared down at Marc before placing his hand on the boy's shoulder as though to make sure he was real.

"Okay, so, Tony...Gibbs wants us to..."

"No. Just no, McGee!"

"No what, Tony? You don't even know what I'm going to say. What's up...?" McGee sounded frustratedly impatient.

"What's up is that we're not dragging Marcus to an NCIS interrogation room Nazi-Style to worm details out of a traumatized kid. I'll shoot the first person who tries it." If only his hands would stop shaking.

"IA's got your gun Tony, for officer involved shooting, remember?" Dorneget got a dirty look from DiNozzo for this helpful information.

"Well, then, loan me yours, Ned, and...no, you can't do that. It's against regulations to pass your gun onto...onto what? What was I talking about?"

Next thing he knew, Tony was sitting in the chair McGee had just vacated and honestly didn't know how he had gotten there. Hot coffee beans assaulted his sense of smell just before a cup was placed at his lips and he gulped a mouthful of just right temperature, highly sweetened coffee.

"Confusion, disorientation, probably has a headache and shakiness. Low blood sugar and loss of blood and a little shocky." That was Ducky's voice Tony realized as he went in and out of the foggy soup of confusion he was in; and his head did hurt.

Then McGee was up in his face. "Tony! Nobody's dragging Marc anywhere. Even Gibbs can't be that heartless." _Can he? _Thought McGee, unsure.

"Look, he wants us all at his house. We can protect Marc there tonight until we can set up a protection detail and a safe house tomorrow." McGee moved the wheelchair the nurse had just brought in into position. "Now sit down!"

"What're ya getting all aggressive about, McGee, and who's that wheelchair for?" Grumbled Tony and he tried to stand as though unencumbered by a tilting floor and spinning walls. "Who do ya think you are anyway, McDaveeed?"

"Never mind who I am. Just get up and let's go!" Said Tim boldly, and then added just for good measure and because it felt good. "And I dare you to say that out loud to Ziva, Tony; she'll kick your sorry ass."

'What!?" Tony sputtered indignantly at the Probie's sudden show of brass and profanity while he manhandled him unsteadily to his feet than into the wheel chair. Dorneget wrapped the hospital blanket firmly around Marcus and picked him up. Ducky grabbed the paper bag with Marcus' antibiotics and followed Ned out.

Tim pushed the wheelchair while Tony dragged his feet. "I can walk outta here, McGee."

"No, you can't."

"Don't tempt me, McGee, or I'll slice you down like a steel salami! Eliot Ness said that by the way, the TV series, not the movie. Never could figure out how he'd do that, though, with a hand made out of flesh and bone karate chop or...Where are we going, anyway, McGPS?"

"Arghh! Tony, would you try to listen! Balboa's team is escorting us to Gibbs' house, they're on protection duty. That's where we're going right now, to Gibbs' house. FBI Fornell will meet us there; they've become involved in this attempted kidnapping case. You got it?"

"Yeah, McGee, I got it, geez. I just have one question."

"What, Tony?"

"Gibbs lives in a house?"

Tony's drugged thoughts, that he appeared not to know he was speaking out loud so that McGee unwillingly heard every word, went on to ruminating about Gibbs' place of residence. He could picture Gibbs' bat-size body hanging from the ceiling of a bat cave with a miniature sniper rifle dangling from a wing or lying with wrists and ankles crossed in a basement coffin with Abby periodically sprinkling sanctified soil over the top or...

_What the holy hell!? _McGee thought, as he looked askance at Tony. It was just like he thought, the man was certifiable, talking nonsense...just plane nuts. To his relief, the non-stop prattle finally stopped as DiNozzo fell asleep half-way there.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Meanwhile, as he waited at his house for the others to arrive, Gibbs recalled what had happened earlier in the day.

It seems that Gibbs had missed Director Shepard by seconds because he could still smell the expensive perfume she preferred. The scent lingered in the upstairs floor as though she may have been standing in one spot for a time; possibly eavesdropping on the goings-on below?

He thought of hopping on the upstairs elevator and going after her but having this conversation while hanging on to the side of her door as she tried to speed away from him was not a good idea. No, it could wait till tomorrow. Besides, there was someone else he had to deal with...Abby, and what was going on with her.

Gibbs came back down the stairs with that thought in mind; first grabbing a cup of coffee and a Caf-Pow, and then paying a visit to Abby's lab. It was late but he had a feeling she'd still be there waiting magnanimously until the last minute to leave in order to give him time to come down and grovel an apology to her. Well, maybe not; he didn't grovel or apologize and she knew that. But the offering of her favorite drink should be enough to get her talking.

What she had done and said in the middle of the bull pen had been extremely unprofessional and might even be considered causing a hostile working environment. Gibbs' thoughts turned sour that he even knew what that meant because of the amount of sessions he had been forced to attend after offending someone or other of their sensibilities. The crybaby sissies! But he wouldn't be surprised if he didn't hear about a few letters of complaint, in defense of McGee, accusing Abby of harassment after that show she put on earlier.

And to be honest, blabbing about McGee's personal issues that way, at the top of her voice, no less, was uncalled for, and the look on DiNozzo's face after she basically labeled him a thief...well, there were just some things that he couldn't fix- and this time, didn't want to fix. Not until she told him what was going on with her would he step in to help, and there was no guarantee that he could help her remove her size ten boot from her mouth anyway. Until then, she would have to be on her own and suffer the consequences of her bad behavior.

Ziva was on her cell phone when he got back downstairs and he wasn't sure if it was work related or not but he would put an end to it if it wasn't, in fact, work related. And if that were the case, there was no reason for her to be here if she chose not to help in finding Marc and the people responsible for the death of Marc's father. But on his approach and pointed glare, Ziva snapped her phone shut and turned back to her computer.

Satisfied, Gibbs went to his desk to get his gun and keys. His first step would be the coffee shop. And as long as he was at the coffee shop, he'd bring a cup to DiNozzo, maybe search the area with him for a bit. Gibbs holstered his gun then approached McGee who was hunched over his computer.

"Anything, McGee?"

"I'm just now getting live footage from around the Navy yard area, Gibbs." Suddenly, McGee stiffened and his fingers flew over the keyboard. A bigger picture turned brightly lit on the plasma screen.

"Something going on, McGee?" Gibbs looked at the screen intently and saw two men, one in military police uniform, running full out towards the coffee shop. There was no sound but the men had their weapons drawn while they ran.

"Oh, no. No! Gibbs, that looks like Dorneget. Where's Tony?"

Gibbs took one last look at the live feed. "McGee, Ziva, let's go, move it! McGee, has Tony called you?" Gibbs grabbed the car keys and hurried to the elevator, Ziva and McGee keeping up behind him. Tim had his phone to his ear as he ran.

"No, Gibbs, nothing and Dorneget's not answering."

They raced to the car and Gibbs sped out, tires burning and gravel spinning away.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The three of them had made it to the scene in record time but by then, all the action was over. Siren blaring motor vehicles chased the perps, and the action, away from the scene down dark secluded streets, and another loud wailing noise accompanied by flashing lights and uniformed men indicated the arrival of the ambulance to race the injured to the hospital. Someone was hurt! Someone on Gibbs' team?

A Navy cop stood guard over a teenager who was sitting on the ground with his head resting on his drawn up knees. The boy was shoeless and his feet were bloody, and someone had placed a clean shirt under his feet to get them off the dirty ground; a too large coat was thrown around his skinny shoulders.

Not too far away, a man was half reclined on the ground, who Gibbs recognized as DiNozzo, and who was trying without success to get up. Dorneget had him pinned down with both hands pressed to Tony's bloody left shoulder, and was repeatedly telling him to stay down.

"Do like the man says, DiNozzo. Marc is right here."

At the sound of his voice, Tony looked at Gibbs like he was a specter from one of the flesh eating Zombie in the Mall movies Tony had talked about once.

"What are you doing here?" Tony mumbled before he gave it up and passed out.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

What _was_ he doing there? What was he doing there now when the action was over_? _Good question, DiNozzo. Another question, _can ya tell me why you never called anyone of us for backup? _But Gibbs knew the answer. DiNozzo expected nothing from the members of his own team but stalling and arguments. Backup? Not worth the time or the dime for a telephone call.

I should report myself for dereliction of duty, thought Gibbs. His agent was involved in a shoot-out getting injured in the process, while he, the lead agent, was back at the office getting ready to cater to Caf-Pow addiction, appeasing hurt feelings, getting one up on Jenny, and making an irrelevant list of his future coffee run chatter with his new best barista instead of backing up one of his own. What had happened to his priorities?

Gibbs felt he was an embarrassment to himself and every brave man, woman and marine, and DiNozzo. He had let DiNozzo go with a casual throw-away line to '_take Dorneget from evidence with you'; as _though that was all DiNozzo was entitled to. His magnanimous gesture to DiNozzo; plenty more than enough backup to carry out his duties to protect a victim on his own with no one from his team covering his six. Thank goodness at least Dorneget was a capable, conscientious agent.

Gibbs berated himself for disregarding McGee's rightful concern and readiness to accompany Tony and instead made him stay back, work on the computer and ignored the young agent's instinctive desire to cover his partner's back. Ziva, wasting time on her phone, probably complaining to Abby about the unfairness and plotting her revenge, gave no concern for her absent partner.

So, now, DiNozzo was on his way to the hospital with a gunshot wound and Marcus, with torn up injured feet and in shock, in another ambulance headed to the same place. And he was standing here wallowing in...self-pity and stupidity. He had complained and cursed about everyone else on his malfunctioning team when he was the one who should be excised like a cancer.

"Gibbs?" McGee interrupted his self-flagellation, which was getting him nowhere and didn't help matters now.

"What, McGee?" Tim looked conflicted. He should stay and help process the scene, but then no one was at the hospital with Tony. "Should I go to the hospital, see how Tony's doing...or..?"

"Balboa's team is at the hospital with Tony and Marc. They'll stay until we get there and he'll call as soon as he knows something. Start tagging the evidence and David, do some interviewing, get the time this all went down and...just start interviewing."

They processed the scene as Ducky and Palmer got the body ready for transport.

Ducky removed the liver probe and checked the temperature. "Do we know who he is, Jethro?"

"John Doe right now, Duck."

"Anthony certainly has a knack for hitting his target as cause of death, I am sure, will be gunshot wound to the right eye. I don't think you could have done any better, Jethro."

"Not a contest, Ducky."

"Of course not, Jethro, just an observation. We are ready, Mr Palmer, the gurney please."

As they hoisted the gurney to a standing position, Ducky continued, "I intend to divert to the hospital and check up on Anthony, Jethro. I am his medical proxy and I should be there. I have spoken to the emergency room doctor already and he said Anthony's wound is superficial and just needs stitches but the poor boy does not react well to anesthesia or pain killers. I will begin the autopsy early tomorrow but the cause of death is not a mystery to the observant, I would say."

"You're pretty cozy with my agent, Ducky. Something you want to tell me?"

"Nothing in particular, Jethro. Anthony and I have become friends and mother has such a fondness for the boy. Oh dear, what to tell her about our usual Sunday meal together. Mother was so excited about an authentic Italian dinner and..."

"Ducky, you're more than friend's you're his medical proxy for goodness sake." Gibbs interrupted impatiently, "How did that happen?"

"Surely, you know that he has no family to speak of, Jethro?" Ducky peered at him closely. "Or do you? Do you know _anything_ about your agents, Jethro, beyond how much time it takes for them to respond to your bellows?"

_Oh, god, first Franks, now Ducky, who next, Fornell?_

"Ducky, not now."

"Very well, Jethro." As Ducky turned away, Gibbs overheard, "Stubborn is as stubborn does. Tsk, tsk."

Back at the bullpen, the news was sketchy. The kidnappers crashed their stolen car into a pole. The driver was unconscious from a gunshot wound to his upper back and not expected to survive. No one could understand how the man had managed to drive as far as he had with that kind of wound and blood loss in the first place. The other guy had gotten away on foot.

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848.

Warning: Same as chapter one.

CHAPTER EIGHT

LOOMS BUT THE HORROR OF THE SHADE

Later that evening at Gibbs' house, Gibbs stood by the coffee machine patiently waiting for his next cup of brew and continued to think hard and deep about the days' happenings and his own culpability at the mess his team was in.

They had finished up at the crime scene and he had sent antsy McGee to the hospital to check up on Tony and Marcus and bring them both here as a safe house for the night. McGee had just called to say they were on their way and Gibbs had ordered pizza delivery.

Gibbs looked over at the kitchen table where Fornell sat with his head buried in their cold case file, which had now become active. "I knew he was good-crustless white bread, right." Fornell thought out loud.

The coffee machine beeped ready and Gibbs brought the pot to the table and served Fornell a cup then poured a cup for himself as well. He indicated the pot to Liaison Officer David who was standing in the doorway, but she refused.

"I would prefer tea if it is available, Gibbs." He just shook his head, not understanding the preference and pointed to the clean cup on the counter. "Zap some water and I'll see what we've got." At her confused look, he pointed to the microwave, while he brought out an ancient tin container and placed it on the table with a jar of honey. The tin was old but the tea was fresh as Dr Mallard kept it supplied with fresh tea leaves and there was a container of Ducky's favorite biscuits in hand that he set on the table.

Fornell looked up from the paperwork. "So, Gibbs? How come you're sitting here drinking tea and eating crumpets while your team is dodging bullets and getting shot?"

"I'm not drinking tea, and it's none of your business." No need to let the Fibby know he had dropped the ball on this case right from the beginning.

"And don't think I don't know you're scouting my agent, Fornell. You can't get anybody to join the FBI? You gotta poach from other agencies?"

"Hell, yes! I'm not stupid like you, Jethro. I gave him six months to get some experience so he could come in as an agent, not a rookie. He's good, I like good." Fornell smirked infuriatingly proud of himself.

"Who are you talking about, Agent Fornell, if I may ask?" Abby had told Ziva some things that she absolutely refused to believe, never in a million years. But Gibbs said Fornell was scouting _his_ agent. A male agent, so obviously it was not her. Certainly not junior agent McGee! Tony DiNozzo then, no!?

"Not at liberty to say, Officer David." Fornell smacked his lips in amusement and kept his secret counsel.

It _was_ DiNozzo! Ziva's heart dropped to the hardwood floor as she realized what a fool DiNozzo had made of her. How he must have laughed at her behind her back and ridiculed her to his friends, knowing full well that he was only there temporarily. If she had known that he really had a solid offer, had somewhere else to go, she could have paid him no mind, ignored his very presence as not a threat to the job she coveted, and saved herself the stress. Damn him!

Gibbs watched her face and realized Ziva had figured out who Fornell was peeing his pants for and she was predictably furious. He expected the explosion and so her harsh complaint was no surprise though what DiNozzo's job status had to do with her was a mystery to him.

"It is Agent DiNozzo, is it not? That playboy, frat-boy joker who uses his father's money to procure a position! What can you possibly see or want in that worthless slacker?" The woman's upturned nose and sneering voice was too much for Tobias.

Fornell looked over at Gibbs and burst into laughter. "Whoa! What's wrong with her, Jethro, she jealous?" Suddenly, a new thought seemed to interfere in his merriment. He stopped chuckling and looked at Ziva knowingly, as though calculating the odds.

"Wait a minute...Daveed, right? I seem to recall...isn't your father the Deputy Director of Mossad...Eli David? Didn't you tell me, Jethro, that Eli David made some kind of devil deal with Shepard to stick his daughter on your team?"

Ziva managed to keep from slapping the agents' all-knowing face. How dare he provoke her ire that way and Gibbs said nothing to refute it? "You know nothing of what you speak, Fornell. My father..."

"Ziva, your water is hot! Make your tea." Gibbs interrupted.

Ziva stiffly turned her back on Fornell's smirking face and took Gibbs' warning advice to make her tea then went to the living room window with the cup to sip and stare out at the quiet neighborhood. Despite her calm countenance her thoughts were in turmoil. She had seen the look that passed between the two men and caught on that Fornell knew exactly who she was.

Gibbs had complained about her to Fornell? Fornell had compared her familial connection with Eli David to DiNozzo's buying a position using his rich father's money; throwing it in her face that the circumstances were the same? They were nothing alike, the situation was nothing alike. The gall of the man for insinuating that it was, and his open mockery of her; his laughter and glee at snatching DiNozzo from Gibbs. And worst, Gibbs had brieflysmirked at Fornell seemingly amused by the man's disrespect of her.

But Ziva David was dense, not stupid. She could acknowledge that to others, like the cretin Fornell, it may seem that she was, in fact, using her father's position to her advantage and that she had not gained her job because of her abilities.

But surely that could not be true...she had been highly touted in Mossad as an excellent assassin envied by others for her stealth and for never missing a target. Unfortunately, that seed of doubt that had been planted by Fornell had taken fruition and now, as she stood gazing out of the window the tea all but forgotten, a dreadful truth hit that nearly knocked her for a fruit loop.

The type of looks she was used to receiving from the other agents and staff made more sense now; the lack of invites to parties or girls nights out and the clearing of a room when she entered. No cake or even a happy birthday greeting from anyone except Abby on her birthday. She chose to believe this was because of their due regard of who she was, and had not felt slighted in the least. Now, their actions took on a different meaning.

Obviously, she had gotten the picture wrong. A while back she had received a hateful letter from a group of people at NCIS too cowardly to sign their names. Those jealous nimrods demanded she needed to quit her job or get off her high horse, whatever that was, because they felt she had _not_ gained her job on her own merits or abilities and that she did not have any experience as an investigator nor the patience to not lose her temper when confronted by belligerent criminals; hence the dead guy in the elevator. The letter said they would not work out in the field with her because if someone did not come back safe and sound it would not be her.

Granted, she would sometimes impatiently lash out at those with not enough common sense to do what she told them to do when she told them to do it, and sometimes that included her fellow workers at NCIS still, it was her prerogative. As Gibbs underling, she was only emulating his style of leadership. If that's what they were so annoyed about it was their problem, not hers.

Ziva knew all of this about herself and in the time she had been there had chosen not to learn a different approach. That is how she had kept McGee in line and other male agents who came and went on Gibbs' team. Until DiNozzo, that is.

That letter had also stated that she should go to FLETC training and stay there for life because her head was so big that it would take a truckload of study hours for anything to penetrate through her thick skull. Again, jealousy, she reasoned was their motive because she had not needed any of their so called training; not FLETC and certainly not sitting through demeaning required classes or lectures to learn how to investigate; so beneath her. She had been able to avoid them because her friend Jenny Shepard deemed it unnecessary when Ziva pointed out that she would not tolerate lesser beings instructing her or telling her what to do.

So, in spite of taking no classes or listening to anyone but Gibbs, she had ignored the letter and arrogantly flaunted the talents that she obviously did not have and that others made the butt of their jokes. Gibbs had called it a deal with the devil, indeed!

Her mistake was ignoring the feeling that something was not right from day one. Something important that kept eluding her, just out of her reach. She should have listened to that feeling, tried harder to find out what it meant. It was plain now that she was being lied to by Director Shepard and made a fool of and she couldn't even think about avenging her honor, or her father's honor, for that matter, because now, she was more than convinced that her father had not been fooled by the Director. More than likely they were in it together and he had turned a blind eye, just to manipulate her along.

No wonder DiNozzo could belittle her and ignore her demands from the moment he walked into NCIS' doors. He was not the outcast there, the pariah, because that honorary distinction, she now knew, belonged to her. There was no glorified lead agent's position waiting for her here or even the senior field agent position she thought she was in line for, and the Director's chair was safe from her too, she now realized. Now that her eyes were opened it was plainly obvious that the deep respect others had for her abilities and her qualifications were a mere figment of her imagination.

But the most bitterly galling pill for her to swallow and just showed how stupid she had been was that there were no other agencies chasing after her demanding her excellent skills, waiting in line for her or fighting for her personally like they were for DiNozzo.

When she started to turn the brunt of her anger on DiNozzo she pulled herself back from that direction. That was not the right way to go for her, not now; obviously DiNozzo was the golden boy and as such, it was hands off for now until she could regroup.

And as long as she was being honest with herself, it was her own hubris that had gotten her into this mess in the first place, and that's all she had left, her pride. And that would have to sustain her until she could figure out her next course of action.

She would not go back to Israel and her father, the idea was abhorrent to her and she would happily eat a bullet first if that were forced on her, but she would not play the martyr here, either. Even if her only option, humiliating that it was, was to remain here and work for Gibbs, and her betrayer, Jenny Shepard, then so be it.

Her embarrassment and stupidity would not be made public for others to examine and pick over, not even Abby would she share this with, and it wouldn't affect who she was. She would step down off the pedestal of her own making, as obviously, no one else looked up to her there and plan on what was best for her now.

Could she refrain from further contention and arguments, especially with Tony? Follow someone's orders even though she felt more qualified than they were? Was she going to be able to accept her mediocrity as others saw her? Her life had been one of a princess stamping her foot to get her way and privilege, and later, power and the might of Mossad. How far she had fallen! Could she accept that?

Her thoughts continued along those lines, deep and heavy; she had important decisions to make as she contemplated her future while watching the slow moving traffic outside.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"I don't envy you, Jethro, having that one on your team. You taking precautions to watch your back when she's in a knife throwing mood?" Fornell had turned serious after watching Ziva's controlled movements as she made her tea then left the room.

"And you sitting here on your ass waiting for your team to show up, that's a little odd, even for you. What happened to you? You lost your edge or something after that coma? 'Cause since when do you sit passively back and let others do your job?"

Gibbs had been asking himself that same question as he sat and waited for his team to arrive.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Ducky led his two patients into Gibbs' house. Dorneget was still carrying a sleeping Marcus and Ducky escorted him to the first floor bedroom where the teenager was to sleep. DiNozzo was more-or-less walking on his own by this time and stood in the hallway directionless until Gibbs was there and pointed to the left. Tony went into the living room and sat on the sofa, throwing his head back, closing his eyes and stretching out his long legs under the coffee table.

That quick, he fell into a light sleep but his nose buds woke him up fast enough when baked risen dough, broiled tomato, seared pepperoni and lightly browned extra cheese assailed his nostrils. Pizza!

Tony sat up and rubbed his face, he desperately needed a shower to wash the dried blood out of his hair. He looked around the semi-darkened room and tried not to grimace at Ziva David standing tense and controlled by the living room window. She glanced at him briefly with cold dark eyes before turning her gaze back to the window.

McGee was set up at a corner table with laptop, and was that a second laptop, turned on and being used? The pizza smell was seeping from three family sized pizza boxes someone had just placed on the coffee table, and the smell was proving too irresistible for Tony to ignore as he reached for a slice. Gibbs came in then with a coffee pot he placed on a coaster on the table and some cups.

"Gibbs." Tony acknowledged procuring his first slice of the warm decadence. "No beer?"

"You're on meds, DiNozzo. How's your arm?"

"It's my shoulder. It's fine." Tony said around a big mouthful of his first savory bite. "So, what's going on?"

"Ducky says Marcus is okay, sleeping naturally. Tore up his feet some with embedded glass and pebbles. He..."

"Ah, good." Ducky interrupted as he came into the room and placed a bottle of water on the table along with white pills in a paper cup. "You are taking in food just in time for your antibiotic, Anthony, eat up and then take the pill please. Drink all the water and then you should get some rest. There is also a pain pill in the cup, Anthony. I had the doctor switch to a different medication. One that I know you have used before and can tolerant and that has fewer side effects. Please take it or you will not be able to sleep and you need your rest."

"Right, Ducky." Tony mumbled around a mouthful of food.

"Do not disregard my advice, Anthony." Ducky scolded. "You are out of the hospital on my recommendation that I will see to your needs, and I will _not _sign off for desk duty if you are uncooperative."

"Alright, Ducky, alright. I'll take the pills..."

"I'll see that he takes them, Ducky. Anything else that he needs to do?" Gibbs had entered the room noiselessly and Tony gave him a sharp look at his presumptuousness; as though he was going to tell him what to do. Not likely!

"Both patients need rest, Jethro." Ducky had noted the stubborn look on Anthony's face at Jethro's words but chose not to comment on it. They could fight it out without his being there.

"Ziva, Timothy? You must not wear yourselves down. Please come and have a bite to eat also."

"Be there in a second, Ducky." Said a distracted sounding McGee from his corner ops center.

"I had something earlier while we were waiting, Ducky, thank you. Gibbs, I believe it is my turn to guard the outside. I will send Dorneget in for his dinner." When Gibbs did not object, Ziva turned to Ducky. "I will escort you to your car, Dr Mallard."

"Very well, my dear." Ducky bade them goodnight and they left quickly.

Tony had stopped chewing briefly to stare at the woman who had quietly left the house. Truthfully, it was a relief not to have Ziva David's unsettling presence nearby and her sniping comments not directed at him for a change.

Gibbs watched her leave also with an unreadable expression on his face before turning back to DiNozzo. "Was Marcus able to say what happened?"

DiNozzo felt his hackles rise at Gibbs' question, immediately thinking the worst. The pizza was as dry as sawdust as he tried to swallow his last bite.

"He's been asleep since we got him here, Gibbs. No time yet for the first degree and he shouldn't be woken up, he needs the rest. He's been through a lot...his father was just brutally murdered...give him a..."

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs had to raise his voice to be heard over Tony's hostility and overreaction to a simple question.

"I'm asking for a sit-rep not a lecture. Ducky said Marc was in shock and hasn't talked since he was found, understood. Now on the off chance, did he say anything to you?" Gibbs said firmly. He wasn't going to let things get out of hand again and he vowed he would listen to the members of his team but he wouldn't put up with a sullen agent and he did expect an answer to his work-related question without argument.

DiNozzo wiped his mouth with the paper napkin trying to convince himself there was no reason for him to stall any longer; Marcus was here and was safe. He had to put the distrust aside or at least tone it down with this man so as not to get thrown off this case, or worse, have Gibbs act on his resignation threat. Tony had to see this through with Marcus.

His appetite suddenly gone, he just wanted to get some rest. The pain in his shoulder was prohibitive but he'd be dammed if he'd take the pill with Agent Macho glaring at him. Plus, he needed to stay alert-but Ducky said this medication was not the goofy time one. If Gibbs would just take a hike somewhere, he would take it...but this _is _the man's house and it didn't look like he was going to move. Besides, all he had to do was answer the man and maybe he would go away. Tony reasoned things out haphazardly, his mind going a mile a minute compliments of his forced relationship with benzodiazepine.

"No. Marc didn't say anything to me. I was busy getting shot at and he was dodging bullets and bad guys then getting his feet fixed. So, no, he didn't say anything. Now, could I use your rest room or do you want me to type up my report first?" He said sarcastically. He couldn't help feeling belligerent, the pain in his shoulder was like fire and ice and salt being rubbed into an open wound all at once and his head hurt. The pizza wanted to make a comeback and Gibbs needed to come up with a bathroom or have copious vomit spewed all over his dingy grey carpet.

Gibbs recognized DiNozzo's words as coming from a hurting, sick, exhausted and irritated man who had eaten too much greasy food too fast and was swallowing convulsively to keep it down. Therefore, those antagonistic words were not meant to challenge his authority but to vent his frustration. Gibbs had a lifetime of military service under his belt and giving orders came naturally to him as did knowing when to push his men, but not beyond what they could handle.

"Don't puke on my floor, DiNozzo. Come on, the bathrooms this way." Tony didn't even try to pull away when Gibbs helped him up by his good arm and steered him to the first floor bathroom. Tony closed the door and locked it quickly and just barely hit the toilet on target to spill his guts of the three slices of poorly masticated pizza. After what seemed a lifetime of regurgitating, and his stomach muscles hurting and his throat a raging fire, the torture finally stopped and Tony rested against the toilet seat exhausted.

'**Knock, knock, bang', **"DiNozzo!" Tony grabbed and held onto his sore head.

_Aaah, go the hell away and leave me alone in my misery, please! _Tony begged silently to the evil presence on the other side of the closed door.

Gibbs rattled the doorknob vigorously. "Open the door, DiNozzo. I have a clean wash cloth and towel and your go bag." Gibbs was the type to never give up and apparently he was on a mission to play the perfect host to an unwilling guest. But...washing up did sound rather appealing. Tony unlocked the door and opened it a crack and reached for the items before hastily closing the door again.

"You're welcome, and no shower, you'll get the bandages wet." Was Gibbs' parting salvo.

Tony glared at the closed door and cussed under his breath in spitefulness while thinking less than kind thoughts of his host. _Who did Gibbs think he was, anyway, his father? News for you, Gibbs! My father is a freakin no-good loser jackass and you're not much better. Don't need him and certainly don't need you!_

After he managed to wash his face and hair in the sink using the disgusting, smelly generic bar of soap that was all that was available, he donned the shirt and sweatpants in his bag and brushed his teeth.

He was cursed being stuck here in Gibbs' house at the man's mercy because all he wanted was a bed and some sleep and it didn't look like he was going to get either one anytime soon if Gibbs insisted on being debriefed. When he came out of the bathroom the living room was dark and empty of people and pizza. Where in the heck had McGee gotten off to and he hadn't caught a glimpse of Fornell since he got here.

The sofa was made up with sheets, blankets and a pillow and Tony had to admit it looked more comfortable and inviting than the most expensive mattress and luxurious bedding ever had.

While Tony was salivating over the sofa, Gibbs came back with a bowl of something and a plate of something else, and a soda can under his arm.

"This is applesauce and toast. You should be able to keep this down so you can take your pills. And sip on the ginger ale, should help with the nausea."

"Look, Gibbs..."

"DiNozzo, just do it!" Gibbs' patience was wearing thin at this bonehead's stubbornness.

"I don't want Ducky getting on my case because _you_ didn't get the proper rest. He can be one mean SOB when riled." Gibbs placed the food on the coffee table and handed Tony a spoon then stood there and waited, and didn't look like he had anything on his list of things to do _but_ stand there.

_Well, when he put it that way, fine, stand there and watch me eat, not my problem. _Tony knew he was being irrationally critical of the man who was just trying to help so he admitted defeat at something he shouldn't be fighting about in the first place, took the spoon and started in on the applesauce. One piece of toast later and he reached for the pills and ginger ale and downed them slowly. When he was done, Gibbs gathered the dishes and left, ostensibly for the kitchen.

Tony lay back under the covers and closed his eyes. He was asleep in minutes but just before that, he thought he heard '_Relax, I'll watch your six, DiNozzo', _and a cool clothwas placed on his forehead over his eyes.But that couldn't be right.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Ziva David had escorted Dr Mallard to his car and wished him a good night. "Are you quite alright, Ziva? You seem quite pensive tonight." Ducky had rolled down his window before departing to talk to her.

"I am quite alright, Ducky. But, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, of course, my dear. What is it?"

"I understand that the FBI is...pooching...that is the word, I think; pooching Tony DiNozzo from Gibbs' team and NCIS?"

"Ah, I believe the correct vernacular is poaching as in..."

"Yes, Ducky, poaching." Ziva uncharacteristically interrupted the good doctor's pending long-winded story. "Poaching him to become an FBI agent after six months experience working here. Is that a common practice?"

Ducky caught a glimpse of more than curiosity on her face as she turned it partially away and failed to look him directly in the eye. What was this about?

Neither admitting nor denying her blunt inquiry about Anthony, Dr Mallard answered her question in generic tones. "It occasionally happens that way, Ziva. I believe Nevins on Carroll's team was a former FBI agent purloined from Agent Fornell himself thus the ongoing rivalry between the two agencies. Mind you, the agents being fought over are of exceptional quality and have something going for them such as skilled at undercover work or language skills of which, I must say, Anthony certainly excels at both. So, yes, Ziva, I can see the FBI and other agencies, for that matter, trying to poach our Anthony away.

Wanting to hide her disbelief and scorn from Ducky, Ziva kept her facial expression neutral. "I see, Ducky. I can picture Agent DiNozzo doing undercover work as he is always pretending to be someone else like the fictional James Bond character, or a clown in a circus. But languages, I think you must be mistaken, Ducky. I speak six languages fluently and some others not as well but Tony has never demonstrated to me that he knows any language other than English." She kept the disdain from her voice or so she thought forgetting for a moment that the wily old duck had never been naive, not even in his youth, and had always been discerning.

"Ah, my dear, that's exactly my point, he never demonstrated to _you_. Our young Anthony also has several languages under his belt and he is so good at being undercover and hiding things that you only know what he wants you to know, and those only very discerning seem to catch on."

Was that Dr Mallard's subtle way of telling her that she had no observational skills to speak of; his crafty way of putting her in her place? Was she seeing cunning in a person who had never been unkind to her?

Ducky reached out of the car window and patted Ziva's hand. "Now, tell me what is wrong, my dear? What is this about?"

Ziva realized she was projecting Fornell's mockery and snide remarks onto poor Dr Mallard. She stared into his guileless blue eyes and saw Ducky as he had always been, which was nothing like Fornell or even Gibbs, for that matter.

"I am sorry, Ducky, I am holding you up. It is nothing."

Ducky observed her with wise, kind eyes. "If you need to talk, Ziva, I have a new tin of peppermint tea I have not opened yet and you are certainly welcomed to join me for a mid-afternoon repast tomorrow if you are not busy."

"Thank you, Ducky, goodnight." Ziva stood back and watched as Ducky drove away and an unmarked dark car pulled out and followed him. She waved at the FBI agent as he drove by to escort Ducky home. They could not be too careful as they still knew nothing about the criminals they were dealing with.

She went to relieve Dorneget for his dinner and found him talking to a nondescript man who fitted in with the background and who slipped silently away.

"You my relief, Officer David?" The usually affable man spoke abruptly with no further greeting. Ziva had had a run-in with him at a notification they had made together and he had accused her of being too harsh to the grieving significant other over the suicide death of his husband. Ever since then he avoided her like the plague.

"Yes. Is there anything to report?"

"It's quiet." Ned started to walk away but Ziva called him back.

"Is there nothing else to report? You seemed to have been engaged in a heavy duty conversation with the FBI agent."

"Not to you, there isn't. I report to Gibbs, not you, and don't try any of that heavy handed crap you're noted for, David; IA's already got their eye on you."

He started to walk away briskly but turned back, "And it's a heavy conversation, not heavy duty," he snorted, and he left her standing there with her mouth figuratively open.

She was a little surprised at the obvious display of hostility generating from this usually good-natured man. She almost stalked after him ready to throw him to the ground with her gun pressed into his chest for his insulting behavior and disrespect. His attitude towards her was certainly not new but it was also not the fearful kowtowing she had once thought it was.

Comprehension was slow in coming but she was getting it. Dorneget may have believed that she was Gibbs' next in line but it was Gibbs he was wary of, not her. And if he backed down from any confrontation with her in the past, it was not out of fear of her but because of Gibbs' likely retribution against him. Now, though, it seems even the threat of death from Gibbs was not a deterrent to showing her how he really felt about her, most likely taking his example from Tony DiNozzo.

She patrolled her area of the grounds diligently for the rest of her shift. At least that she could do well. She would take Ducky up on his offer and visit him tomorrow in autopsy. Though she was loathed to admit it even to herself, she needed the help of someone who did not hate her or even fear her. Her decision to go after those who had hurt and ridiculed her was not yet made. Maybe the good doctor could help her see another way.

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848.

Warning: Same as chapter one.

A/N: My knowledge of stuttering is what I learned from a friend who stuttered and what he learned, and what happened to him. Every case, of course, is different.

A/N2: Thank you everyone who chooses to read this story and for the continued reviews and encouragement.

CHAPTER NINE

FINDS AND SHALL FIND ME UNAFRAID

DiNozzo woke to the sound of murmuring coming from the direction of the kitchen, and bright sunlight from the window. How long had he been asleep? He had to admit he felt better this morning, the headache was gone but a pain pill wouldn't be uncalled for, just to take the edge off the shoulder pain. He got up, used the bathroom then when there was no one to stop him, he went up the stairs in search of Marcus.

He passed one room with the door closed and for some reason though there was no bolt present, he felt the door was never opened. He proceeded farther down the hallway following the sound of quiet sobbing. The master bedroom door was wide open as though it was never closed and it was empty inside, then he stopped at the last bedroom on the right where the sobbing got louder and the door was ajar.

Marcus lay curled up under the covers on a bed with beautiful carved head and footboards and similarly carved bedroom furniture was in the room. Marcus' sobs were muffled by what Tony recognized as a handmade, intricately designed, blue patchwork quilt thrown over his head. Yellow curtains at the window brightened the room and what appeared to be an original colorful landscape painting graced the wall.

Tony let his eye roam the room at the beautiful things and briefly let the odd difference between this room and Gibbs' dry goods from Sears and his less then aesthetically pleasing personality occupy his mind while he contemplated the boy in the bed. He sighed thinking of all the things he could have done to prevent this from happening to Marc who had become an orphan two days after he met him. And though it wasn't his fault because he had done all the things that had been possible to do why did he still feel so guilty or want to blame the other members of the team for their part in this? It wasn't their fault, either; this was something that had begun years before their involvement with the senseless murder of a young mother that had gone unsolved for years.

"Marc." Even though Tony spoke softly to the huddled figure, Marc trembled violently at the sound of his voice and pulled the cover down from over his head to peer apprehensively at the speaker then a sigh of relief escaped his lips when he saw who it was.

"Detective Tony. Hi." Tony tried not to wince at the appellation. When Jason had called him that, there had been so much trust in his voice but this wasn't about Jason or more unwanted guilty feelings. This other boy, Marc, his voice was dull and tear filled and his face was wet with tears and his nose runny. He wiped his face on the edge of the sheet and sat up in the bed to reach for a bottle of water on the bedside table and took a gulp.

Tony walked into the room and sat in the chair next to the bed. "You hungry? I smell something cooking downstairs; maybe bacon or ham and..."

"My father's dead, isn't he, Detective Tony." He looked at Tony pleadingly, wanting him to deny what he knew to be true.

"I'm so sorry, Marc, but, yes, your father is dead." Marc burst into loud sobs again and leaned into the pillow to cover the noise.

Feeling helpless, Tony reached over and tentatively rubbed the boy's back until the sobs quieted and stopped. He handed Marc some tissues from a box on the end table and helped him sit up to blow his nose. Tony was glad that Marc could cry and grieve and not have anyone around who would chastise and berate, _DiNozzo's don't cry! Stop it now or I'll give you something to cry about!_

Tony shook off that memory of his mother's death and turned back to Marc. He was reluctant to interfere in the boy's grief but there was no better time than now to ask his questions. Actually, there was no time that _would _be better.

"Marc, can you tell me what happened?"

"They killed my father. They just killed him."

"Marc, were you there when it happened? Do you know who they were?

Marc sprang up ready to jump to the floor, agitated and angry, but Tony held him back on the bed with one hand on his chest gently pushing him back.

"Easy, Marc, easy. You'll hurt your feet..."

"I don't care. They hurt my dad." Marcus flung himself back down on the bed and continued to berate himself. "I should have stayed home last night, I could have helped him!"

"You spent the night somewhere else, Marc? Where were you?"

"My dad dropped me off at my friend Jeb's farm last night so we could groom our calf that we were going to enter in the fair for the blue ribbon. I spent the night then my friend's dad was going to drop us off at school in the morning but I forgot my sports bag so he dropped me off at my house and I was going to catch the bus for school."

Marcus spoke quickly as though he wanted to get it all out before it choked him.

"So, I got home and the house was dark so I thought my dad had gone to the store or something because the house is never dark unless he's not home but his van was still there so then I started to get scared and I went inside and dropped my bag and kicked off my shoes first because my mom wanted to keep the carpet clean.

"At first it was quiet then I heard some noises in the kitchen and I started to go in there but then I passed the living room and I saw...I saw my dad. He was lying on the floor all bloody and I knew he was dead there was a knife...and it was in his neck like my mother's and she was dead so I knew he was dead so I turned around and ran back out the door but there was a man...someone was chasing me, yelling, but I got to the van and I backed up and drove away." Marcus wailed pitifully and hit the mattress with both hands.

"I should have done something. Do you think my dad was still alive and I just left him there?" Again, he turned to Tony for answers somehow to ease his pain.

"Marcus, your dad was already dead. There was nothing you could have done for him by that time. Marc, had you ever seen this man before? Did you know him?"

"No. I don't know who they are. There were two of them, I think. I don't know...My dad was teaching me how to drive. Did you know that? I couldn't get my permit for another couple years but he would take me out every once in a while and let me drive in a deserted parking lot. He said I was pretty good, it was a cinch I'd pass my driving test."

"How did you start the van, Marc, did you have a spare key?"

"My dad hid a spare key in the van. He said if I should ever need to get away fast that I had his permission to drive it. I drove around but they followed me till I thought I lost them on the freeway but they caught up with me. That's when I drove over to where you work, you know, the navy yard, but I crashed into a pole or something...Do you think he knew something was going to happen to him? If I hadn't gone away to spend the night maybe I..."

"Marc, listen to me. If you had been there, they would have killed you too..."

"I don't care...I don't care! My dad is dead!" Tony got up from the chair and sat on the bed and in spite of feeling awkward and inadequate he placed his good arm around Marc and pulled him close. Marc wrapped his arms around Tony and cried into his chest and they sat that way for a time with Tony rocking them both gently until Marc cried himself out again.

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"Did you hear all of that?" Tony questioned grimly, addressing Fornell and Gibbs as he sat in the dining room with coffee cup in hand and an empty plate of food in front of him on the table. He put a pain pill and antibiotic in his mouth and swallowed it down with the lukewarm coffee left in his cup.

He had known the men were outside the bedroom door while Marc was telling him what happened and he was just glad neither Gibbs nor Fornell felt the need to bust in gangster style to further traumatize the kid. Ducky was there too and relieved Tony at Marc's bedside when Tony left the room.

"We heard. They'd have killed him too if he had been there." Gibbs slammed the dirty pan into the sink with force. "They keep one step ahead of us, no, more than that. Who the hell are these people? What do they want?" He growled, furious beyond words at his helplessness. But right after that show of anger, Gibbs reigned in his temper tantrum as a useless waste of energy.

"Yeah, ditto, Jethro," said Fornell. "The name of the dead guy from fingerprints, Harry Jarvis, great, but he has no record, not even a parking ticket in the last ten years. Fingerprints taken when he applied for a gun license, states here he was going to open a private investigators business. Yeah, and birds can't fly. Somebody's cleaning up after him. Somebody in high places, maybe?"

Fornell sat facing DiNozzo at the table. He was sopping up the last of his runny eggs with a piece of buttered toast as he talked about the vital information they _didn't_ have. Gibbs topped off Fornell's coffee cup but DiNozzo turned down a second dose of the rotgut drain cleaner.

"You're asking me, Tobias? Don't you and the FBI know who that might be? Who's the agency covering up for this time? Another traitor like Ari; give a brand new spic and span clean life to the guy while he's still double crossing you and your agency and laughing himself to the bank while shivin' you in the back?"

"Good to know how you really feel, Jethro. I don't know diddly about the dead guy in Ducky's morgue or the guy in a coma...and by the way, DiNozzo, the bullet the surgeon dug out of the man's back looks like it came from your gun. Good shooting. Anyway, he's still unconscious, pretty bad shape and if he pulls through, I'll marry Diane again."

Gibbs shuddered for a moment as cold water dripped down his spine at that picture and he thought, better him than me. "He been identified yet, Tobias?"

Fornell had finished eating and now sat back from the table with a satisfied belch.

"Again, nothing, his prints aren't in AFIS and of course, the car was stolen. By the way, where's your guy, McGee? Heard he was working half the night on the computer. Did he come up with anything?" Fornell looked over at Gibbs speculatively. "I also heard he's a genius hacker. If he'd grow some balls, I'd be offering him a job, too."

Sometimes Gibbs couldn't stand his long-time friend. "Take your best shot, Tobias."

"He's got balls!" Tony declared breaking his glum silence. He didn't know why he felt the need to defend McGee to these two hard-nosed cynical agents- - it wasn't like they didn't have enough going on right now. But something was telling him that they were wrong about McGee. That maybe there was more to the man then stuttering and cowering. He had no proof about McGee's courage but he knew the guy had a skewed abnormal fixation with strong, pushy woman and what he thought might be an abusive father's influence. He just knew the younger man was more than balls-free and scared and just stubborn enough that given the chance he might show the heart of a lion and the strength not to give up until he found his answers or died trying.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

That morning, the man in question ate a slice of warmed over pizza for breakfast that Gibbs had forced him to take home with him and a cup of coffee over-doctored with cream and sugar to force the lingering taste of Gibbs' rocket fuel brew that he had been drinking last night out of his mouth. He was dressed and ready to go back to Gibbs' house with the information he had been able to garner so far, only it wasn't enough.

He didn't think it was enough, not after spending practically the whole night trying to come up with a clue and wracking the mechanical brains of his computers to find something. McGee recalled the conversation he had had last night while Gibbs was making up the sofa for Tony's bed. Well, it wasn't a conversation, just Gibbs' no-nonsense orders and his usual faltering responses.

_"McGee close down that computer, already, grab a box of pizza and go home, get some rest. Whatever you're doing will have to wait, we all need some sleep." _Gibbs came across grumpy and rough and McGee was spared the agony of not having any pertinent information to impart at that time.

_"I, uh, I just need to..."_

_"McGee, go home! You're no good to me if you're walking around half-asleep and I'm all out of places to bunk down. Tell Ziva to come and get this pizza then to go home, too, and to report to the office in the morning and finish her reports. She doesn't have to come back here, but you, be here early, and bring donuts! The FBI will take over guard duty tonight._

_"Ah, right, Gibbs, going home now."_

Gibbs had then stopped his maid service duties for a moment to glance at McGee thoughtfully.

_"McGee, you're a good agent. You wanted to partner up with DiNozzo earlier and I vetoed it. I just want ya to know that I have no problem with you guys' disagreeing with me but the last word has to be mine, so if you feel something strongly, present your case." _Gibbs had then offered Tim a lopsided grin that came and went._ "And do it quickly, McGee, I got no patience for long drawn out explanations, but I have been known to change my mind on occasion, understand?"_

_"I...no...yes, uh sure, Gibbs."_

NCIS NCIS NCIS

That had been the gist of their conversation and those had been his orders so he had dutifully packed up and left.

But before that informal exchange of words, he had watched covertly when Gibbs had helped the extremely uncoordinated DiNozzo up from the sofa and led him to the bathroom. He heard the quick slam of the door then the explosive noise of vomiting and a pitiable groan before all became silent.

Gibbs returned and seemed to have forgotten he was there as he brought extra bedding from upstairs and started to make up the couch. McGee doubted the man even knew when he finally hauled his carcass out of there with his designated pizza box and his computers shortly after Gibbs gave him his orders to go, and he had to fight the feeling that he wasn't needed or even wanted there.

He couldn't help being surprised at the show of caring that Gibbs exhibited towards a spaced out DiNozzo, and boy, if he and DiNozzo had been friends, would he have a boatload of things to tease and blackmail the guy about his kookie behavior while under the influence. But they weren't friends so best to keep those little anecdotes to himself.

As far as a caring Gibbs, minute that it was, and even though Tony was unaware of it and probably wouldn't appreciate it if he had known about it that would be something McGee would also keep to himself. It's just that McGee was sensitive to those displays of feelings even though not directed at him as something he had never had. He wasn't jealous, far from it, just wandered what was lacking in him that there had never been an older, strong man who had seen something in him in his youth and was willing to mentor him even with his imperfections and faults.

But, que sera, sera. His grandmother Penny used to say that calling it a sixties thing. The saying pretty much fit how he felt in that there was no use in fighting where life took him because it would be what it was. He had a father who saw nothing of any value in him and no matter how hard he tried as a child, had found nothing to brag to his contemporaries about his only son in all the years since his birth. That had set the pattern and he had given up trying to break it. His attitude towards his father today was stay out of my backyard and I'll stay out of yours because yours isn't any greener; but, still, that lack of nurturing had left its toll on his psyche.

So, now, he contemplated others relationships and put his absent ones on the back burner, because, really, he wasn't looking for a 'daddy'. A friend, assuredly, in his chosen field of law enforcement, a partner even to cover his six, but not another father figure. The few friends he had, his fellow geeks and nerds, were priceless to him, he loved them like brothers. There at NCIS though he was labelled a 'mama's boy' not worthy of friendship while he was soldered with four strings of steel to an apron decorated with mini sniper rifles and petri dishes and knotted tightly to Ziva and Abby.

Or so it had been. But Tony had complimented him on his behavior in the field, had talked to him and especially, had shown him, though unknowingly, that there was a better way for him. And Gibbs had sort of said it was okay to disagree with him, sorta.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Now if he could just keep up his resolve and continue the first steps he had taken last night to free himself from the aggressor, Ziva David.

He had slipped out of Gibbs' house carrying the pizza box and his computers and managed to make it to his car without dropping anything. After everything was stored away safely in the car trunk, Tim was tempted to get in his car and just drive away, just go without looking back thus avoiding the inevitable confrontation, angry, one-sided argument and latent threats from a perpetually angry and dissatisfied Ziva David to deal with.

But he had been given his orders by Gibbs so he looked around and found Ziva standing silently by the old sycamore. He hadn't seen her before and wouldn't have seen her now if she hadn't wanted him to. He didn't know how long she'd been standing there but she was looking back at him coolly so he cleared his throat of the frog and walked over to her as she hadn't moved from under a heavy tree branch. It was quarter moon dark and she was kind of creeping him out standing under the tree with its limbs that looked like...well, limbs, reaching out for him.

"Uh, Ziva. Gibbs says you're off duty and to go home. There's a whole pizza he said you should take and, uh...report to the office tomorrow rather than coming here...ah, write up your report and followup. So, g-g-goodnight." McGee took a few steps away and thought he was home free. He should have known better as Ziva's voice followed his hasty retreat.

"I would prefer staying here, Tim; it is already past one. Where is Tony sleeping?"

"Um, Gibbs made up a bed for him on the couch."

"I see, and he could not find other sleeping arrangements for you, McGee, or me? It is a big house."

_Oh boy. _Tim thought in amazement. Surely she didn't expect an answer from him, of all people, about who Gibbs chose to make his houseguest? Why would she?

_"_I, ah...I guess not?"

"And are your orders for tomorrow to go to the office and sit at _your_ desk, McGee? Were you instructed to come into the office early, also?"

"...No, ah, Gibbs wants...I'm supposed to come back here tomorrow...bring donut..."

"Donuts? How cozied. I am surprised he is allowing you such a privilege to cater his dietary needs, and Tony's, also? But then, again, he has always seen fit to use you as his errand boy." Spoken with true arrogant superiority and disdain, McGee felt his gut clench tighter.

"But, do not worry, Tim. I have been meaning to talk to Gibbs about his mistreatment of you. He has favored DiNozzo over you once too often. I have noted this as has Abby but she would not bring it up to him because she feels that Gibbs can do no wrong and there must be a reason why he treats you that way; something you are doing wrong, perhaps, something lacking in your work performance?"

His father would talk down to him like that, even today, if he were here standing beside him and his words might have the same effect; overawe, belittle and humiliate, if he let them. Ziva and the Admiral could echo words off each other; the timbre and pace would be different but the meaning the same and not shocking at all as he had heard them so many times before.

"Tomorrow, then, I will trade places with you and stop at my favorite pastry shop and pick out a dozen freshly made donuts and cream filled crullers, and bring them here for breakfast. And you may report to the office and complete your reports and continue with your computer searches at your desk. Do not worry Tim. I will explain your absence to Gibbs. Goodnight, Tim." And she glided quietly back into the darkness and disappeared.

It was surreal. The vast darkness of the night broken by the puny light from the broken moon encompassed both he and Ziva and what he had seen of her pale face. Her singsongy presentation of her solution to fix what she considered Gibbs' unfair treatment of him, even the mention of creamy crullers in the midst of creeping branches pushed this whole scene from reality and saneness into the realm of nightmarish fantasy.

McGee tried darn hard to shake free of the bizarreness of the moment and his inability to take a step or speak. This was crazy, he berated himself; there was no mysticism involved here. If he stood here and shivered out of fear and nighttime vapors then he allowed Ziva to become bigger than life and his forever master.

He had to decide _now_ whether Ziva was the controlling specter in the night and he, the helpless and spineless goober zombie she apparently thought he was, or she was an ordinary flawed human being with delusions of her own importance. And if that were the case, then he was a fool and she was no better or worse off than him. Most importantly, the control she maintained over him was hers only because _he_ gave it up to her.

McGee came back to himself quoting another of Penny's euphemism's for too much of the good sixties mind altering things and one of the most ridiculous of cliches floating in his head; he had 'seen the light' and 'the light had set him free', but suddenly he could move and the air had cleared. It was still a dark and cool night, but ordinary and unassuming, and the moonlight was sparse but pretty. His tongue became untied and anger took the place of his reticence.

"**Ziva, wait!" **He yelled out in anger, something he hadn't felt able to do in a long time.

**"You're full of crap, you know that, right?" **And that was as profound and profane as the mild-mannered man was going to get.

Ziva hadn't moved far just back to the trunk of the tree where her dark clothes blended in and the tree limbs no longer looked like an extension of her arms.

He prepared himself for her attack remembering the poor sap in the elevator, and like with DiNozzo, expected to get beaten up or gutted but he'd been beaten up by bullies before, big deal. So, it was anticlimactic when she didn't rush toward him with one of the shiny knives she was always sharpening aimed at his jugular. Adrenalin would prevail so he stalked the short distance to her with a straight back and no fear ready to meet, whatever, head on.

But even in his anger, it, coupled with his compassion, made him the person his father so despised but something the Admiral would never be, a truly good man, so that by the time he reached her, his anger had been tempered with ready forgiveness, and he could speak mildly and with some concern.

"Look, Ziva, I don't know what's going on with you or why you think you should say things like that to me, but it's going to stop, now! I'd prefer not to fight with you because I was raised different and not everything is settled by a fist in the face. I will, though, fight you if you insist. I will also report you to human resources for harassment and I know that you don't need any more of those complaints in your permanent file."

McGee had always known that his nervousness, anxiety, fear and rapid heartbeat that made him the stutterer that he was had been something he could control by losing his fears or facing them and just like that, it would be gone. But he hadn't believed his many psychologists', psychiatrists or speech therapists who told him that it was 'all in his head' because his fear had always been there. His fear of his father first and then the bullies who were his father's bully clones.

But he checked within himself and thought, _I am not afraid of Ziva any longer; the sick fear that was not healthy and produced nothing good. I am not afraid of her, she can kill me, sure, but I'm not afraid! I have no reason to stutter. _Mantra from his hours of counseling came back to him bearing fruit.

So he studied what he could see of her in the dark and felt sorry for her knowing that something wasn't right with her to act the way that she did.

"Ziva." He sighed, "I'll be back here tomorrow morning as instructed by Gibbs with his donuts. I suggest you go to the office with or without fried pastry and complete your reports. That decision is up to you, okay? I'm not trying to tell you what to do Ziva, there's been enough of that going on around here already.

"But from now on, what is not up to you is telling me what to do and especially not trying to countermand the orders that Gibbs, as the legitimate leader of this team, gives me. I hope you can understand that, Ziva, but if you don't, that's going to be your problem to sort out. Is that clear?"

There was no response from the woman in the tree so Tim shrugged and turned away. He felt good, lightened of spirit and free.

"McGee, wait." Ziva spoke quietly, the sneer absent from her voice.

"Ziva?" He turned around and she had moved and was now standing facing him.

"You have been taking lessons from DiNozzo, yes? You are no longer afraid. You do not flinch or stutter when near me."

"No...maybe, no. This has nothing to do with Tony, Ziva. What you've been doing is wrong and disruptive and my own fault for letting you get away with it. I have no excuse except...well it's just got to stop. You're not..."

"I am not what, Tim? Gibbs' second in command? The senior field agent, the lead investigator?"

"Well, no, you're not, Ziva, not even in line for any of those positions. I finally used my brain and figured that one out for myself and if you thought you were then someone was lying to you. But that's not what I was going to say. You're not my enemy, we're _not_ enemies. I don't want to go home every night feeling like I've been through a war zone. It's what you're used to, I know that. It's why you're mad all of the time. But you're here now, let go of some of it. Just...I won't put up with you taking your unhappiness at your life out on me any longer. I just wanted you to know that." This time when he turned away Ziva did not call him back.

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Now it was the next morning and McGee finished up his light breakfast and threw the rest of the pizza away. He grabbed a banana, some sparkling water and a yogurt for his lunch because his stomach couldn't stand another day of pizza and Gibbs' coffee. He'd stop off at the donut shop for donuts in what had to be the most ridiculous way to 'stand up and be counted'; and there he was channeling Penny, again. But donuts? Well, he had to take a stand somewhere and he hoped he had gotten his meaning across to Ziva last night about where things stood between them now.

What stand had Ziva decided to take?

NCIS NCIS. NCIS


End file.
